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JAPHET 


IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 


BY CAPTAIN MARRY'ATT. 

AJTHOK OF “peter SIMPLE,” “JACOB FAITHFUL, MR. MIDSHIPMAN EASY,” ETC., Em 


D. 


NEW-YOEK : 

APPLETON & COMPANY, 

90, 92 & 94 GRAND STREET. 

1870. 


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JAPHET m SEARCH OF A FATHER 




'CHAPTER I. 

LIKE MOST OTHER CHILDREN, WHO SHOULD BE MY GODFATHER IS DE- 
CIDED BY MAMMON SO PRECOCIOUS -AS TO MAKE SOME NOISE IN 

THE WORLD, AND BE HUNG A FEW DAYS AFTER I WAS BORN CUT 

DOWN IN TIME, AND PRODUCE A SCENE OF BLOODSHED MY EARLY 

PROPENSITIES FULLY DEVELOPED BY THE CHOICE OF MY PROFES- 
SION. 

Those who may be pleased to honour these pages with a peru- 
sal, will not be detained wit^i a long introductory history of my 
birth, parentage, and education. The very title implies that, at 
this period of my memoirs, I was ignorant of the two first ; and 
it will be necessary for the due development of my narrative, 
that I allow them to remain in the same state of bliss ; for in the 
perusal of a tale, as well as in the pilgrimage of life, ignorance 
of the future may truly be considered as the greatest source of 
happiness. The little that was known of me at this time 1 
will however narrate as concisely, and as correctly, as I am able. 

It was on the I really forget the date, and must rise from 

my chair, look for a key, open a closet, and then open an iron 
safe to hunt over a pile of papers — it will detain you too long 
— it will be sufficient to say that it was on a night but 


6 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

whether the night was dark or moonlit, or rainy or foggy, or 
cloudy or fine, or starlit, I cannot tell ; hut it is of no very 
great consequence. Well, it was on a night about the hour 

there again I’m puzzled, it might have been ten, or eleven, 

or twelve, or between any of these hours ; nay, it might have 
been past midnight, and far advancing to the morning, for what 
I know to the contrary. The reader must excuse an infant of 

there again I am at a nonplus ; but we will assume of 

some days old — if, when WTapped up in flannel and in a covered 
basket, and, moreover, fast asleep at the time, he does not 
exactly observe the state of the weo.ther, and the time by the 
church clock. . I never before was aware of the great impor- 
tance of dates in telling a story ; but it is now too late to re- 
cover these facts, which have been swept aw^ay into oblivion by 
the broad wing of Time. I must therefore just tell the little I 
do know, trusting to the reader’s good nature, and to blanks. 

It is as follows : — that, at the hour of the night the 

state of the weather being also I, an infant of a certain 

age was suspended by somebody or sombodies at the 

knocker of the Foundling Hospital. Having made me fast, the 
said somebody or somebodies rang a peal upon the bell which 
made the old porter start up in so great a hurry, that, with the 
back of his hand he hit his better half a blow on the nose, oc- 
casioning a great suffusion of blood from that organ, and a still 
greater pouring forth of invectives from the organ immediately 
below it. 

All this having been effected by the said peal on the bell, the 
said somebody or somebodies did incontinently take to their 
heels, and disappear long before the old porter could pull his 
legs through his nether garments and obey the rude summons. 
At last the- old man swang open the gate, and the basket swang 
across his nose ; he went in again for a knife and cut me down, 
for it was cruel to hang a baby of a few days old ; carried me 
into the lodge, lighted a candle, and opened the basket. Thus 
did I metaphorically first come to light. 

When he opened the basket I opened my eyes, and although 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


7 


I did not observe it, the old woman was standing at the table 
in very light attire, sponging her nose over a basin. 

“ Verily, a pretty babe with black eyes I” exclaimed the old 
man in a tremulous voice. 

“Black eyes, indeed,” muttered the old woman. “ I shall 
have two to-morrow.” 

“ Beautiful black eyes indeed I” continued the old man. 

“ Terrible black eyes, for sartin,” continued the old woman, 
as she sponged away. 

“ Poor thing, it must be cold,” murmured the old porter. 

“ Warrant I catch my death a-cold,” muttered the wife. 

“ But, dear me, here’s a paper !” exclaimed the old man. 

“ Vinegar and brown paper,” echoed the old woman. 

“ Addressed to the governors of the hospital,” continued the 
porter. 

“ Apply to the dispenser of the hospital,” continued his 
wife. 

“ And sealed,” said he. 

“ Get it healed,” said she. 

“ The linen is good ; it must be the child of no poor people. 
Who knows ?” — soliloquised the old man. 

“ My poor nose I” exclaimed the old woman. 

“ I must take it to the nurses, and the letter I will give to- 
morrow,” said the old porter, winding up his portion of this 
double soliloquy, and tottering away with the basket and your 
humble servant across the court-yard. 

“ There, it will do now,” said the old wife, wiping her face on 
a towel, and regaining her bed, in which she w'as soon Joined 
by her husband, and they finished their nap without any further 
interruption during that night. 

The next morning I was reported and examined, and the 
letter addressed to the governors was opened and read. It was 
laconic, but still, as most things laconic are, very much to the 
point. 

“ This child was born in wedlock — he is to be named 
Japhet. When circumstances permit, he will be reclaimed.” 


S JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

But there was a postscript by Abraham Newland, Esq., pro- 
mising to pay the bearer, on demand, the sum of fifty pounds. 
In plainer terms, there was a bank note to that amount in- 
closed in the letter. As in general the parties who suspend 
children in baskets, have long before suspended cash payments, 
or, at all events, forget to suspend them with the baskets, my ar- 
rival created no little noise, to which I added my share, until 1 
obtained a share of the breast of a young woman, who, like 
Charity, suckled two or three babes at one time. 

We have preparatory schools all over the kingdom ; foi 
young gentlemen, from three to five years of age, under ladies, 
and from four to seven, under either, or both sexes, as it may 
happen ; but the most preparatory of all preparatory schools, 
is certainly the Foundling Hospital, which takes in its pupils, if 
they are sent, from one to three days old, or even hours, if the 
parents are in such extreme anxiety about their education. 
Here it commences with their weaning, when they are instructed 
in the mystery of devouring pap ; next, they are taught to walk 
— and as soon as they can walk — to sit still ; to talk ; and as 
soon as they can talk — to hold their tongues ; thus are they 
instructed and passed on from one part of the establishment to 
another, until they finally are passed out of its gates, to get on 
in the world, with the advantages of some education, and the 
still further advantage of having no father or mother to provide 
for, or relatives to pester them with their necessities. It was 
so with me : I arrived at the age of fourteen, and notwith- 
standing the promise contained in the letter, it appeared that 
circumstances did not permit of my being reclaimed. But I 
liad a great advantage over the other inmates of the hospital ; 
the fifty pounds sent with me were not added to the funds of 
the establishment, but generously employed for my benefit by 
the governors, who were pleased with my conduct, and thought 
highly of my abilities. Instead of being bound ’prentice to a 
cordwainer, or some^ other mechanic, by the influence of the 
governors, added to the fifty pounds and interest, as a premium, 

I was taken by an apothecary, who engaged to bring me up to 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


9 


the profession. And now, that I am out of the Foundling, we 
must not travel quite so fast. 

The practitioner who thus took me by the hand was a Mr- 
Phineas Cophagus, whose house was most conveniently situated 
for business, one side of the shop looking upon Smithfield Mar- 
ket, the other j^resenting a surface of glass to the principal 
street leading out of the same market. It was a corner house, 
but not in a corner. On each side of the shop were two gin 
establishments, and next to them were two public-houses, and 
then two eating-houses, frequented by graziers, butchers, and 
drovers. Did the men drink so much as to quarrel in their 
cups, who was so handy to plaster up the broken heads as Mr. 
Cophagus ? Did a fat grazier eat himself into an apoplexy, 
how very convenient was the ready lancet of Mr. Cophagus ? 
Did a i>ull gore a man, Mr. Cophagus appeared with his dia- 
chylon and lint. Did an ox frighten a lady, it was in the back 
parlor of Mr. Cophagus that she was recovered from her syn- 
cope. Market days were a sure market to my master ; and if 
an over-driven beast knocked down others, it only helped to set 
him on his legs. Our window suffered occasionally ; but 
whether it were broken heads, or broken limbs, or broken win- 
dows, they were well paid for. Every one suffered but Mr. 
Phineas Cophagus, who never suffered a patient to escape him. 
The shop had the usual allowance of green, yellow, and blue bot- 
tles ; and in hot weather, from our vicinity, we were visited by 
no small proportion of blue-bottle flies. We had a white horse 
in one window, and a brown horse in the other, to announce to 
the drovers that we supplied horse medicines. And we had all 
the patent medicines in the known world, even to the “ all-suf- 
ficient medicine for mankind ” of Mr. Enouy ; having which, I 
wondered, on my first arrival, why we troubled ourselves about 
any others. The shop was large, and at the back part there 
was a most capacious iron mortar, with a pestle to correspond. 
The first floor was tenanted by Mr. Cophagus, who was a bach- 
elor; the second floor was let ; the others were appropriated to 
the housekeeper, and to those who formed the establishment. 

1 * 


10 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


In this well-sitnated tenement, Mr. Cophagus got on swim 
iningly. I will, therefore, for the present, sink the shop, that 
my master may rise in the estimation of the reader, when I de- 
scribe his person and his qualifications. 

Mr. Phineas Cophagus might have been about forty-five 
years of age when I first had the honour of an iutroductioii to 
him in the receiving-room of the Foundling Hospital. He was 
of the middle height, his face was thin, his nose very much 
hooked, his eyes small and peering, with a good-humoured 
twinkle in them, his mouth large, and drawn down at one 
corner. He was stout in his body, and carried a considerable 
protuberance before him, which he was in the habit of patting 
with his left hand very complacently ; but although stout in 
his body, his legs were mere spindles, so that, in his appearance, 
he reminded you of some bird of the crane genus. Indeed, I 
may say, that his whole figure gave you just such an impression 
as an orange might do, had it taken to itself a couple of pieces 
of tobacco pipes as vehicles of locomotion. He was dressed in 
a black coat and waistcoat, white cravat, and high collar to 
his shirt, blue cotton net pantaloons and Hessian boots, both 
fitting so tight, that it appeared as if he was proud of his 
spindle shanks. His hat was broad-brimmed and low, and he 
carried a stout black cane with a gold top in his right hand, 
almost always raising the gold top to his nose when he spoke, 
just as we see doctors represented at a consultation in the cari- 
cature prints. But if his figure was strange, his language Tind 
manners were still more so. He spoke, as some birds fly, in 
jerks, intermixing his words, for he never completed a whole 
sentence, with urn — um — and ending it with “ so leaving 
his hearers to supply the context from the heads of his dis- 
course. Almost always in motion, he generally changed his 
position as soon as he had finished speaking, walking to any other 
part of the room, with his cane to his nose, and his head cocked 
on one side, with a self-sufficient tiptoe gait. When I was ushered 
into his presence, he was standing with two of the governors 
“ This is the lad,” said one of them, “his name is Jaj>hetP 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


11 


“Japliet,” replied Mr. Cophagus ; “urn, scriptural — Shem, 
Ham, um — and so on. Boy reads V’ 

“Very well, and writes a very good hand. He is a very 
good boy, Mr. Cophagus.” 

“ Read — write — spell — good, and so- on. Bring him up — 
rudiments — spatula — write labels — um — M.D one of these days 
— make a man of him — and so on,” said this strange personage, 
walking round and round me with his cane to his nose, and 
scrutinising my person with his twinkling eyes. I was dismissed 
after this examination and approval, and the next day, dressed 
in a plain suit of clothes, was delivered by the porter at the 
shop of Mr. Phineas Cophagus, who was not at home when I 
arrived. 


CHAPTER II. 

LIKE ALL TYROS, I FIND THE RUDIMENTS OF LEARNING EXTREMELV 
DIFFICULT AND LABORIOUS, BUT ADVANCE SO RAPIDLY THAT I CAN 
DO WITHOUT MY MASTER. 

A TALL, fresh-coloured, but hectic looking young man, stood 
behind the counter, making up prescriptions, and a dirty lad, 
about thirteen years old, was standing near with his basket tc 
deliver the medicines to the several addresses, as soon as they 
were ready. The young man behind the counter, whose name 
wfts Brookes, was within eighteen months of serving his time, 
when his friends intended to establish him on his own account, 
and this was the reason which induced Mr. Cophagus to take 
me, that I might learn the business, and supply his place when 
he left. Mr. Brookes was a very quiet, amiable person, kind 
to me and the other boy who carried out the medicines, and 
\vho had been taken by Mr. Cophagus, for his food and raiment. 
The porter told Mr. Brookes who I was, and left me. “ Be 
you think that you will like to be an apothecary ?” said Mr 
Brookes to me with a benevolent smile. 


12 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ Yes ; I do not see why I should not,” replied I. 

“ Stop a moment,” said the lad who was waiting with the 
basket, looking archly at me, “ you havVt got through your 
rudiviaTis 

“ Hold your tongue, Timothy,” said Mr. Brookes. That you 
are not very fond of the rudiments, as Mr. Cophagus calls them, 
is very clear. Now walk off as fast as you can with these 
medicines, sir — 14, Spring Street ; 16, Cleaver Street, as be- 
fore ; and then to John Street, 55, Mrs. Smith’s. Bo you 
understand ?” 

“ To be sure I do — can’t I read ? I reads all the directions, 
and all your Latin stuff into the bargain — all your summon 
dusses, horez, diez, cockly hairy. I mean to set up for myself 
one of these days.” 

I’ll knock you down one of these days, Mr. Tunothy, if 
you stay so long as you do, looking at the print shops ; tliat 
you may depend upon.” 

“ I keep up all my learning that way,” replied Timothy, 
walking off with his load, turning his head round and laughing 
at me, as he quitted the shop. Mr. Brookes smiled, but said 
nothing. 

As Timothy went out, in came Mr. Cophagus. “Heh ! 
Japhet — I see,” said he, putting up his cane, “ nothing to do — 
bad — must work — um — and so on. Mr. Brookes — boy learn 
rudiments — good — and so on.” Hereupon Mr. Cophagus 
took his cane from his nose, pointed to the large ii’on mortar, 
and then walked away into the back parlour. Mr. Brookes 
understood his master, if I did not. He wiped out the mortar, 
threw in some drugs, and, showing me how to use the pestle, 
left me to my work. In half an hour I discovered why it was 
that Timothy had such an objection to what Mr. Cophagus 
facetiously termed the rudiments of the profession. It was 
dreadful hard work for a boy ; the perspiration ran down me 
in streams, and I could hardly lift my arms. When Mr. Co- 
phagus passed through the shop and looked at me, as I con- 
tinued to thump away with the heavy iron pestle, “ Good,” — 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


IS 


said he, “by-aiid-by — M.D. — and so on.” I thought it was a 
very rough road to such preferment, and I stopped to take a 
little breath. “By-the-bye — Japhet — Christian name — and so 
on — sirname — heh !” • • 

“ Mr. Cophagus wishes to know your other name,” said Mr. 
Brookes, interpreting. 

I have omitted to acquaint the reader that sirnames as well 
as Christian names are always given to the children at the 
Foundling, and in consequence of the bank note found in my 
basket, I had bpen named after the celebrated personage whose 
signature it bore. “ Newland is my other name, sir,” replied I. 

“ Newland — heh ? — very good name — every body likes to see 
that name — and have plenty of them in his pockets too — urn — 
very comfortable — and so on,” replied Mr. Cophagus, leaving 
the shop. 

I resumed my thumping occupation, when Timothy returned 
with his empty bhsket. He laughed when he saw me at work. 
“Well, how do you like the rudimans ? — and so on — heh ?” said 
he, mimicking Mr. Cophagus. 

“ Not overmuch,” replied I,. wiping my face. 

“ That was my job before you came. I have been more than 
a year, and never have got out of those rudimans yet, and I 
suppose I never shall.” 

Mr, Brookes, perceiving that I was tired, desired me to leave 
off, an order which I gladly obeyed, and I took my seat in a 
corner of the shop. 

“ There,” said Timothy, laying down his basket ; “no more 
work for me hanty ])ranclium, is there, Mr. Brookes ?” 

“No, Tim ; hut ;post prandium, you’ll ^05/ off again.” 

Dinner being ready, and Mr. Cophagus having returned, he 
and Mr. Brookes went into the back parlour, leaving Timothy 
and me in the shop to announce customers. And I shall take 
this opportunity of introducing Mr. Timothy more particularly, 
as he- will play a very conspicuous part in this narrative. Tkn 
othy was short in stature for his age, but very strongly built. 
He had an oval face, with a very dark complexion, grey eyes 


14 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


flashing from under their long eyelashes, and eyebrows nearly 
meeting each other. He was marked with the small pox, not 
so much as to disfigure him, but still it was very perceptible 
when near to him. His countenance was always lighted up 
with merriment ; there was such a happy devil-may-care expres- 
sion in his face, that you liked him the first minute that you 
were in his company, and I was intimate with him immediately. 

“ I say, Japhet,” said he, “ where did you come from . 

“ The Foundling,” replied I. 

“ Then you have no friends or relations.” % 

“ If I have, I do not know where to find them,” rej^lied I 
very gravely. 

“ Pooh ! don’t be grave upon it. I hav’n’t any either. I 
was brought up by the parish, in the workhouse. I was found 
at the door of a gentleman’s house, who sent me to the overseers 
— I was about a year old then. They call me a foundling, but I 
'don’t care what they call me, so long as they don’t call me too 
late for dinner. Father and mother, whoever they were, when 
they run away from me, didn’t run away with my appetite. I 
wonder how long master means to play with his knife and fork. 
As for Mr. Brookes, what he eats wouldn’t physic a snipe. 
AV^hat’s your other name, Japhet ?” 

“ Newland.” 

“ Newland — now you shall have mine in exchange : Timotny 
Oldmixon at your service. They christened me after the work- 
house pump, which had ‘Timothy Oldmixon fecit’ on it : and 
the overseers thought it as good a name to give me as any 
other ; so I was christened after the pumpmaker with some of 
the pump water. As soon as I was big enough, they employed 
me to pump all the water for the use of the workhouse. I 
worked at my pajpa, as I called the pump, all day long. Few 
sons worked their father more, or disliked him so much j and 
now, Japhet, you see, from habit, I’m pumping you.” 

“You’ll soon pump dry, then, for I’ve very little to tell 
you,” replied I ; “ but, tell me, what sort of a person is our 
master ?” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


15 


He^s just what you see him, never alters, hardly ever out 
of humour, and when he is he is just as odd as ever. He very 
often threatens me, but I have never had a blow yet, although 
Mr. Brookes has complained once or twice.” 

“ But surely Mr. Brookes is not cross.” 

“No, he is a very good gentleman ; but sometimes I carry 
on my rigs a little too far, I must say that. For as Mr. 
Brookes says, people may die for want of the medicines, because 
I put down my basket to play. It's very true ; but I can't 
give up ‘peg in the ring' on that account. But then I only 
get a box of the ear from Mr. Brookes, and that goes for 
nothing. Mr. Cophagus shakes his stick, and says, ‘ Bad boy — 
big stick — urn — won't forget — next time — and so on,' ” continued 
Timothy, laughing ; “ and it is so on, to the end of the chapter.”- 

By this time Mr. Cophagus and his assistant had finished 
their dinner, and canw into the shop. The former looked at 
me, put his stick to his nose, “ Little boys — always hungry — • 
um — like good dinner — roast beef — Yorkshire pudding — and 
so on,” and he pointed with the stick to the back parlour. 
Timothy and I understood him very well this time : we went 
into the parlour, when the housekeeper sat down with us, and 
helped us. She was a terribly cross, little old woman, but as 
honest as she was cross, which is all that I shall say in her 
favour. Timothy was no favourite, because he had such a good 
appetite ; and it appeared that I was not very likely to stand 
well in her good opinion, for I also ate a great deal, and every 
extra mouthful I took I sank in hen estimation, till I was nearly 
at the zero, where Timothy had long been for the same offence ; 
but Mr. Cophagus would not allow her to stint him, saying, 
“ Little boys must eat — or won't grow — and so on.” 

I soon found out that we were not only well fed, but in 
every other point well treated, and I was very comfortable and 
happy. Mr. Brookes instructed me in the art of labelling and 
tying up, and in a very short time I was very expert ; and as 
Timothy predicted, the rudiments were once more handed over 
to him Mr. Cophagus supplied me witli good clotlies, but 


16 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


never gave me any pocket-money, and Timothy and I ofter, 
lamented that we had not even a half-penny to spend. 

Before I had been many months in the shop, Mr. Brookes 
was able to leave when any exigence required his immediate 
attendance. I made np the pills, but he weighed out tlie 
quantities in the prescriptions : if, therefore any one came in 
for medicines, I desired them to wait the return of Mr. Brookes, 
who would be in very soon. One day, when Mr. Brookes was 
out, and I was sitting behind the counter, Timothy, sitting on 
it, and swinging his legs to and fro, both lamenting that we 
had no pocket money, Timothy said, “Japhet, IVe been puz- 
zling my brains how we can get some money, and IVe hit it at 
last ; let you and I turn doctors ; we wonT send all the people 
away who come when Mr. Brookes is out, but we’ll physic them 
ourselves.” 

I jumped at the idea, and he had hardly proposed it, 
when an old woman came in, and addressing Timothy, said, 
“ That she wanted spmethiug for her poor grandchild’s sore 
throat.” 

“ I don’t mix up the medicines, ma’am, replied Timothy ; 
“ You must apply to that gentleman, Mr. Newlaud, who is 
behind the counter — he understands what is good for every 
body’s complaints.” 

“Bless his handsome face — and so young too! Why, be 
you a good doctor, sir ?” 

“ I should hope so,” replied I ; “ what is it you require — a 
lotion, or an embrocation 

“I don’t understand those hard words, but I want some 
doctor’s stuff.” 

“Very well, my good woman ; I know what is proper,” re- 
plied I, assuming an important air. “ Here, Timothy, wash 
out this vial very clean.” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Timothy, very respectfully. 

I took one of the nfeasures, and putting in a little green, a 
little blue, and a little white liquid from the medicine bottles 
generally used by >[r. Brookes, filled it up with water, poured 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


17 


the mixture into the vial, corked and labelled it, hauslua 
statim sumendns, and handed it over the counter to the old 
woman. 

“ Is the poor child to take it, or is it to rub outside in- 
quired the old woman. 

“ The directions are on the label ; — but you don’t read 
Latin ?” 

“ Peary me, no I Latin I and do you understand Latin ! 
what a nice clever boy !” 

“I should not be a good doctor if I did not,” replied I 
“ On second thoughts, I consider it advisable and safer, that the 
application should be external , so I translated the label to her 
— haustus, rub it in — statim, on the throat — sumendus, with the 
palm of the hand. 

“ Peary me ! and does it mean all that ? How much have I 
to pay, sir !” 

“ Embrocation is a very dear medicine, my good woman ; 
it ought to be eighteen pence, but as you are a poor woman, 
I shall only charge you nine-pence.” 

“ I’m sure I thank you kindly,” replied the old woman, 
putting down the money, and wishing me a good morning as 
she left the shop. 

“ Bravo I” cried Timothy, rubbing his hands ; it’s halves, 
Japhet, is it not ?” 

Yes,” I replied ; “ but first we must be honest, and not cheat 
Mr. Cophagus ; the vial is sold, you know, for one penny, and 
I suppose the stuff I have taken is not worth a penny more. 
Now, if we put aside two-pence for Mr. Cophagus, we don’t 
cheat him, or steal his property ; the other seven-pence is of 
course our own — being the profits of theprofessionP 

“ But how shall we account for receiving the two-pence ?” 
said Timothy. 

“ Selling two vials instead of one : they are never reckoned, 
you know.” 

“ That will do capitally,” cried Timothy ; “ and now for 
halves.” But this could not be managed until Timothy had run 


18 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


out and changed the sixpence ; we then each had our three- 
pence halfpenny, and for once in our lives could say that we 
. had money in our pockets. 


CHAPTER III. 

I PERFORM A WONDERFUL CURE UPON ST. JOHN LONG’s PRINCIPLE, 

HAVING LITTLE OR NO PRINCIPLE OF MY OWN 1 BEGIN TO 

PUZZLE MY HEAD WITH A PROBLEM, OF ALL OTHERS MOST DIF- 
FICULT TO SOLVE. 

The success of our first attempt encouraged us to proceed ; but 
afraid that I might do some mischief, I asked of Mr. Brookes, 
the nature and qualities of the various medicines, as he was 
mixing the prescriptions, that I might avoid taking any of 
those which were poisonous. Mr. Brookes, pleased with my 
continual enquiries, gave me all the information I could desire, 
and thus I gained, not only a great deal of information, but 
also a great deal of credit with Mr. Cophagus, to whom Mr. 
Brookes had made known my diligence and thirst for know- 
ledge. 

“ Good — very good,” said Mr. Cophagus ; “ fine boy — learns 
his business — M.B. one of these days — ride in his coach, — um, 
and so on.” Nevertheless, at my second attempt, I made an 
awkward mistake, which very near led to detection. An Irish 
labourer, more than half tipsy, came in one evening, and asked 
whether we had such a thing as was called “ A jpoor man^s plas- 
ter. By the powers, it will be a poor man’s plaster when it 
belongs to me ; they tell me that it is a sure and sartain cure 
for the thumbago, as they call it, which I’ve at the small of ray 
back, and which is a hinder to my mounting up the ladder ; so 
as it’s Saturday night, and I’ve just got the money. I’ll buy the 
plaster first, and then try what a little whisky inside will do ; 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. ’ 19 

the devil’s in it if it won’t- be driven out of me between the 
two.” 

We had not that plaster in the shop,, but we had blister plas- 
ter, and Timothy, handing one to me, I proffered it to him. 
“ And what may you be after asking for this same ?” inquired he. 

The blister plasters were sold at a shilling each, when spread 
on paper, so I asked him eighteen-pence, that we might pocket 
the extra sixpence. 

“ By the powers, one would think that you had made a mis- 
take, and handed me the rich man’s plaster instead of the poor 
one’s. It’s less whisky I’ll have to drink, any how ; but here’s the 
money, and the top of the morning to yc, seeing as how it’s jist 
getting late.” 

Timothy and I laughed as we divided the sixpence. It ap- 
peared that after taking his allowance of whisky, the poor fel- 
low fixed the plaster on his back when he went to bed, and the 
next morning found himself in a condition not to be envied. It 
was a week before we saw him again, and much to the horror 
of Timothy and myself, he walked into the shop when Mr 
Brookes was employed behind the counter. Timothy perceived 
him before he saw us, and pulling me behind the large mortar, 
we contrived to make our escape into the back parlour, the door 
of which we held ajar to hear what would take place. 

“ Murder and turf I” cried the man ; “ but that was the 
devil’s own plaster that you gave me here for my back, and it 
left me as raw as a turnip, taking every bit of my skin off me 
entirely, forebye my laying in bed for a whole week, and losing 
my days’ work.” 

“ I really do not recollect supplying you with a plaster, my 
good man,” replied Mr. Brookes. 

“ Then, by the piper that played before Moses, if you don’t 
recollect it, I’ve an idea that I shall never forget it. Sure 
enough, it cured me, but wasn’t I quite kilt before I was 
cured ?” 

“ It must have been some other shop,” observed Mr. Brookea 

You have made a mistake.” 


20 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ Devil a bit of mistake, except in selling me the plaster 
Didn’t I get it of a lad in this same shop 

“ Nobody sells things out of this shop without my know- 
ledge.” 

The Irishman was puzzled — ^he looked round the shop. 
“ Well, then, if this a’h’t the shop, it was own sister to it.” 

“ Timothy,” called Mr. Brookes. 

“ And sure enough there was a Timothy in the other shop, 
for I heard the boy call the other by the name ; however, it’s 
no matter if it took off the skin, it also took away the thumbago, 
so the morning to you, Mr. Pottykary.” 

When the Irishman had departed, we made our appearance. 

Japhet, did you sell a plaster to an Irishman ?” 

“ Yes — don’t you recollect, last Saturday ? and I gave you 
the shilling.” 

** Very true ; but what did he ask for ?” 

“ He asked for a plaster, but he was very tipsy. I showed 
him a blister, and he took it ;” and then I looked at Timothy 
and laughed. 

“You must not play such tricks,” said Mr. Brookes. “ I see 
what you have been about — ^it was a joke to you, but not to 
him.” 

Mr. Brookes, who imagined we had sold it to the Irishman 
out of fun, then gave us a very severe lecture, and threatened 
to acquaint Mr. Cophagus, if ever we played such tricks again. 
Thus the affair blew over, and it made me very careful ; and, 
as every day I knew more about medicines, I was soon able to 
mix them, so as to be of service to those who applied, and 
before eighteen months had expired, I was trusted with the 
mixing up of all the prescriptions. At the end of that period 
Mr. Brookes left us, and I took the whole of his department 
upon myself, giving great satisfaction to Mr. Cophagus. 

And now that I have announced my promotion, it will per 
haps be as well that I give the reader some idea of my per- 
sonal appearance, upon which I have hitherto been silent. I 
was thin, between fifteen and sixteen years old, very tall for my 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 21 

age, and of my figure I had no reason to be ashamed ; a large 
beaming eye, with a slightly aquiline nose, a high forehead, fair 
in complexion, but with very dark hair. I was always what 
may be termed a remarkably clean-looking boy, from the 
peculiarity of my skin and complexion ; my teeth were small, 
but were transparent, and I had a very deep* dimple in my 
chin. Like all embryo apothecaries, I carried in my appear- 
ance, if not the look of wisdom, most certainly that of self- 
sufficiency, which does equally well with the world in general. 
My forehead was smooth, and very white, and my dark locks 
were combed back systematically, and with a regularity that 
said, as plainly as hair could do, “The owner of this docs 
every thing by prescription, measurement, and rule.” With 
my long fingers I folded up the little packets, with an air as 
thoughtful and imposing as that of a minister who has just pre- 
sented a protocol as interminable as unintelligible ; and the 
look of solemn sagacity with which I poured out the contents 
of one vial into the other, would have well become the king’s 
physician, when he watched the “lord’s anointed” in articulc 
mortis. 

As I followed up my saturnine avocation, I generally had an 
open book on the counter beside me ; not a marble-covered 
dirty volume, from the Minerva press, or a half-bound, half- 
guinea’s worth of fashionable trash, but a good, honest, heavy- 
looking, wisdom-implying book, horribly stuffed with epithet of 
drug ; a book in which Latin words were redundant, and here 
and there were to be observed the crabbed characters of Greek. 
Altogether, with my book and my look, I cut such a truly 
medical appearance, that even the most guarded would not 
have hesitated to allow me the sole conduct of a whitlow, from 
inflammation to suppuration, and from suppuration to cure, or 
have refused to have confided to me the entire suppression of a 
gumboil. Such were my personal qualifications at the time 
that I was raised to the important office of dispenser of, I may 
gay, life and death. 

It will not surprise the reader when I tell him that 1 was 


22 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

much noticed by those who came, to consult, or talk with, 
Mr. Cophagus. “A very fine looking lad that, Mr. Cophagus,^' 
an acquaintance would say. ■ “Where did you get him — who is 
his father ?” 

“ Father !” Mr. Cophagus would reply, when they had 
gained the back parlour, but I could overhear him, “father, 
um — can’t tell — love — concealment — child born — Foundling 
Hospital — put out — and so on.” 

This was constantly occurring, and the constant occurrence 
made me often reflect upon my condition, which otherwise I 
might, from the happy and even tenor of my life, have forgotten. 
When I retired to my bed I would revolve in my mind all that 
I had gained from the governors of the hospital relative to 
myself. The paper found in the basket had been given to me. 
I was born in wedlock — at least, so said that paper. The sum 
left with me also proved that my parents could not, at my birth, 
have been paupers. The very peculiar circumstances attending 
my case, only made me more anxious to know my parwitage. I 
was now old enough to be aware of the value of birth, and 
I was also just entering the age of romance, and many were the 
strange and absurd reveries in which I indulged. At one time 
I would cherish the idea that I was of a noble, if not princely 
birth, and frame reasons for concealment. At others — but it is 
useless to repeat the absurdities and castle buildings which 
were generated in my brain from mystery. My airy fabrics 
would at last disappear, and leave me in all the misery of doubt 
and abandoned hope. Mr. Cophagus, when the question was 
sometimes put to him, would say, “ Good boy — very good 
boy — don’t want a father.” But he was wrong, I did want 
a father ; and (ivery day the want became more pressing, and I 
found myself continually repeating the question, “ WAo is 
father ?” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 


23 


CHAPTER IV. 

rERY MUCH PUZZLED WITH A NEW PATIENT, NEVERTHELESS TAKE MY 
DEGREE AT FIFTEEN AS AN M. D. ; AND WHAT IS STILL MORE 
ACCEPTABLE, I POCKET THE FEES. 

The departure of Mr. Brookes, of course, rendered me more 
able to follow up with Timothy my little professional attempts 
to procure pocket-money; but independent of these pillages by 
the aid of pills, and making draughts upon our master's legiti- 
mate profits, by the assistance of draughts from his shop, 
accident shortly enabled me to raise the ways and means in 
a more rapid manner. But of this directly. 

In the mean time I was fast gaining knowledge ; every even- 
ing I read surgical and medical books, put into my hands by 
Mr. Cophagus, who explained whenever I applied to him, and 
I soon obtained a very fair smattering of my profession. He 
also taught me how to bleed, by making me, in the first 
instance, puncture very scientifically all the larger veins of a 
cabbage-leaf, until well satisfied with the delicacy of my hand, 
and the precision of my eye, he wound up his instructions by 
permitting me to breathe a vein in his own arm. 

“Well," said Timothy, when he first saw me practising, “I 
have often heard it said, there's no getting blood out of a 
turnip ; but it seems there is more chance with a cabbage. I 
tell you what, Japhet, you may try your hand upon me as much 
as you please, for two-pence a go." 

I consented to this arrangement, and by dint of practising 
on Timothy over and over again, I became quite perfect. I 
should here observe, that my anxiety relative to my birth 
increased every day, and that in one of the books lent me by 
Mr. Cophagus, there was a dissertation upon the human frame, 
sympathies, antipathies, and also on those features and pecu- 
liarities most likely to descend from one generation to another. 
It was there asserted that the nose, was the facial feature most 


24 , 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


likely to be transmitted from father to son. As I before bare 
mentioned, my nose was rather aquiline ; and after I had read 
this book, it was surprising with what eagerness I examined 
the faces of those whom I met ; and if I saw a nose upon any 
man’s face, at all resembling my own, I immediately would 
wonder and surmise whether that person could be my father. 
The constant dwelling upon the subject at last created a spe- 
cies of monomania, and a hundred times a day I would mutter 
to myself : “ W/io is my father indeed, the very bells, when 
they rung a peal, seemed, as in the case of Whittington, to 
chime the question, and at last I talked so much on the subject 
to Timothy, who was my Fidus Achates^ and bosom friend, that 
I really believe, partial as he was to me, he wished my father 
at the devil. 

Our shop was well appointed with all that glare and glitter 
with which we decorate the house of calV^ of disease and 
death. Being situated in such a thoroughfare, passengers 
would stop to look in, and ragged-vested, and in other gar- 
ments still more ragged, little boys would stand to stare at the 
variety of colours and the ’pottecary gentleman, your humble 
servant, who presided over so many labelled-in-gold phalanxes 
which decorated the sides of the shop. 

Among those who always stopped and gazed, as she passed 
by, which was generally three or four times a day, was a well- 
dressed female, apparently about forty years of age, straight as 
an arrow, with an elasticity of step, and a decision in her man- 
ner of walking, which was almost masculine, although her form, 
notwithstanding that it was tall and thin, was extremely femi- 
nine and graceful. Sometimes she would fix her eyes upon me, 
and there was a wildness in her looks, which certainly gave a 
painful impression, and at the same time so fascinated me, that 
when I met her gaze, the paper which 'contained the powder 
remained unfolded, and the arm which was pouring out the 
liquid suspended. 

She was often remarked by Timothy, as well as me ; and we 
further observed, that her step was not equal throughout the 


JAPHEf, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 25 

% 

day. In her later peregrinations, towards the evening, her gait 
was more vigorous, but unequal, at the same time that her 
gaze was more steadfast. She usually passed the shop for the 
last time each day about five o’clock in the afternoon. 

One evening, after we had watched her past, as we supposed, 
to return no more till the ensuing morning, for this peeping in, 
on her part,* had become an expected occurrence, and afforded 
much amusement to Timothy, who designated her as the “ mad 
woman,” to our great surprise, and to the alarm of Timothy, 
who sprang over the counter, and took a position by my side, 
she walked into the shop. Her eye appeared wild, as usual, 
but I could not make out that it was insanity. I recovered my 
self-possession, and desired Timothy to hand the lady a chair, 
begging to know in what way I could be useful. Timothy 
walked round by the end of the counter, pushed a chair near 
to her, and then made a hasty retreat to his former position. 
She declined the chair with a motion of her hand, in which 
there was much dignity, as well as grace, and placing upon the 
counter her hands, which were small and beautifully white, she 
bent forwards towards me, and said, in a sweet, low voice, 
which actually startled me by its depth of melody, “I am very ill.” 

My astonishment increased. Why, I know not, because the 
exceptions are certainly as many as the general rule, we always 
form an estimate of the voice before we hear it, from the out- 
ward appearance of the speaker ; and when I looked up in 
her face, which was now exposed to the glare of the argand 
lamp, and witnessed the cadaverous, pale, chalky expression on 
it, and the crow’s feet near the eyes, and wrinkles on her fore- 
head, I should have sooner expected to have heard a burst of 
heavenly symphony from a thundercloud, than such music as 
issued from her parted lips. 

“ Good heavens, madam 1” said I eagerly and respectfully, 
. “ allow me to send for Mr. Cophagus.” 

“ By no means,” replied she. “ I, come to you. I am 
aware,” continued she, in an under tone, “that you dispense 
medicines, give advice, and receive money yourself.” 

2 


26 


JAl'ilET, IN SEAKGH OF A FATHER 


I felt very mucli agitated, and the blush of- detection 
mounted up to my forehead. Timothy, who heard whar she 
said, showed his uneasiness in a variety of grotesque ways. 
He drew up his legs alternately, as if he were dancing on hot 
plates ; he slapped his pockets, grinned, clenched his fists, 
ground his teeth, and bit his lips till he made the blood come. 
At last he sidled up to me, “ She has been peeping and screw- 
ing those eyes of hers into this shop for something. It’s all 
up with both of us, unless you can buy her off.” 

“ I have, madam,” said I, at last, “ventured to prescribe in 
some trivial cases, and, as you say, receive money when my 
master is not here ; but I am entrusted with the till.” 

“ I know — I know — you need not fear me. You are too 
modest. What I would request is, that you would prescribe 
for me, as I have no great opinion of your master’s talents.” 

“ If you wish it, madam,” said I, bowing respectfully. 

“ You have camphor julep ready made up, have you not ?” 

“ Yes, madam,” replied I. 

“ Then do me the favour to send the boy with a bottle to my 
house directly.” I handed down the bottle, she paid for it, and 
putting it into Timothy’s hands, desired him to take *it to the 
direction v/hich she gave him. Timothy put on his hat, cocked 
his eye at me, and left us alone. 

“What is your name ?” said she, in the same melodious voice. 

“ Japhet Newland, madam,” replied I. 

“Japhet — it is a good, a scriptural name,” said the lady, 
musing in half soliloquy. “Newland — that sounds of mam- 
mon.” 

' “ This mystery is unravelled,” thought I, and I was right in 

my conjectures. “ She is some fanatical methodist but I 
looked at her again, and her dress disclaimed the idea, for in it 
there was much taste displayed. 

“ Who gave you that name ?” said she, after a pause. 

The question was simple enough, but it stirred up a host of 
annoying recollections ; but not wishing to make a confidant of 
her, I gently replied, as I used to do in the Foundling Hospital 


JAFIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


21 


oil Sunday morning — “ My godfathers and godmothers in my 
baptism, ma’am.” 

“ My dear sir, I am very ill,” said she, after a pause, “ will 
you feel my pulse ?” 

I touched a wrist, and looked at a hand that was worthy of 
being admired. What a pity, thought I, that she should be 
old, ugly, and half crazy I 

“ Do you not think that this pulse of mine exhibits consider- 
able nervous excitement ? I reckoned it this morning, it was 
at a hundred and twenty.” 

“ It certainly beats quick,” replied I, “ but perhaps the 
camphor julep may prove beneficial.” 

“ I thank you for your advice, Mr. Newland,” said she, laying 
down a guinea, “ and if I am not better, I will call again, or 
send for you. Good night.” 

She walked out of the shop, leaving me in no small astonish- 
ment. What could she mean ? I was lost in reverie, when 
Timothy returned. The guinea remained on the counter. 

“ I met her going home,” said he. “ Bless me — a guinea — 
why, Japhet !” I recounted all that had passed. “Well, 
then, it has turned out well for us instead of ill, as I expected.” 

The us reminded me that we shared profits on these occa« 
sions, and I offered Timothy his half ; but Tim, with all his 
esjpieglerie was not selfish, and he stoutly refused to take his 
share. He dubbed me an M.D., and said I had beaten Mr. 
Cophagus already, for he had never taken a physician’s fee. 

“ I cannot understand it, Timothy,” said I, after a few 
minutes’ thought. 

“ I can,” replied Timothy. “ She has looked in at the win- 
dow until she has fallen in love with your handsome face ; that’s 
it, depend upon it.” As I could find no other cause, and Tim’s 
opinion was backed by my own vanity, I imagined that such 
must be the case. “ Yes, ’t is so,” continued Timothy, “ as the 
saying is, there’s money bid for you.” 

“ I wish that it had not been by so ill-favoured a person, at 
ill events, Tim,” replied I ; “ I cannot return her affection.” 


28 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ Never mind that, so long as you don’t return the money.” 

The next evening she made her appearance, bought, as before 
a bottle of camphor julep — sent Timothy home with it, and ask- 
ing my advice, paid me another guinea. 

“ Eeally, madam,” said I, putting it back towards her, “I 
am not entitled to it.” 

“ Yes, you are,” replied she. I know you have no friends, 
and I also know that you deserve them. You must purchase 
books, you must study, or you never will be a great man.” She 
then sat down, entered into conversation, and I was struck with 
the fire and vigour of the remarks, which were uttered in such 
a melodious tone. 

Her visits, during a month, were frequent, and every time 
did she press upon me a fee. Although not in love with her 
person, I certainly felt very grateful, and moreovei was 
charmed with the superiority of her mind. We were now on 
the most friendly and confiding terms. One evening she said to 
me, “ Japhet, we have now been friends some time. Can I 
trust you ?” 

“With your life, if it were necessary,” replied I. 

“ I believe it,” said she. “ Then, can you leave the shop and 
come to me to-morrow evening ?” 

“ Yes, if you will send your maid for me, saying that you are 
not well.” 

“ I will, at eight o’clock. Farewell, then, till to-morrow,” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


29 


CHAPTER Y. 

MY VANITY RECEIVES A DESPERATE WOUND, BUT MY HEART REMAINS 

UNSCATHED AN ANOMALY IN WOMAN, ONE WHO DESPISES 

BEAUTY. 

The next evening I left Timothy in charge, and repaired to her 
house; it was very respectable in outward appearance, as well 
as its furniture. I was not, however, shown up into the first 
floor, but into the room below. 

“Miss Judd will come directly, sir,” said a tall, meagre, puri- 
tanical looking maid, shutting the door upon me. In a few 
minutes, during which my pulse beat quick, (for I could not 
but expect some disclosure; whether it was to be one of love or 
murder, I hardly knew which,) Miss Aramathea Judd, for such 
was her Christian name, made her appearance, and sitting down 
on the sofa, requested me to take a seat by her. 

“ Mr. Newland,” said she, “ I wish to — and I think I can 
entrust you with a secret most important to me. Why I am 
obliged to do it, you will perfectly comprehend when you have 
heard my story. Tell me, are you attached to me ?” 

This was a home question to a forward lad of sixteen. I 
took her by the hand, and when I looked down on it, I felt as 
if I was. I looked up into her face, and felt that I was not. 
And, as I now was close to her, I perceived that she must have 
some aromatic drug in her mouth, as it smelt strongly — this 
gave me the supposition that the breath which drew such melo- 
dious tones was not equally sweet, and I felt a certain increased 
degree of disgust. 

“ I am very grateful. Miss Judd,” replied I; “I hope I shall 
prove that I am attached when you confide in me.” 

“ Swear, then, by all thaPs sacred, you will not reveal what 
I do confide.” 

“ By all that^s sacred I will not,” replied I, kissing her hand 
with more fervour than I expected from myself. 


30 JAniET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“Do me then the favour to excuse me one minute.” She 
left the room, and in a very short time there returned, in the 
same dress, and in every other point the same person, but with 
a young and lively face of not more, apparently, than twenty- 
two or twenty-three years old. I started as if I had seen an 
apparition. “ Yes,” said she, smiling, “ you now see Aramathea 
Judd without disguise; and you are the first who has seen that 
face for more than two years. Before I proceed further, again 
I say, may I trust you — swear !” 

“ I do swear,” replied I, and took her hand for the book, 
which this time I kissed with pleasure, over and over again. 
Like a young jackass as I was, I still retained her hand, throw- 
ing as much persuasion as I possibly could in my eyes. In fact, 
I did enough to have softened the hearts of three bonnet- 
makers. I began to feel most dreadfully in love, and thought 
of marriage, and making my fortune, and I don’t know what; 
but all this was put an end to bygone simple short sentence, 
delivered in a very decided but soft voice, “ Japhet, don’t be 
silly.” 

I was crushed, and all my hopes crushed with me. I drop- 
ped her hand, and sat like a fool. 

“ And now hear me. I am, as you must have already found 
out, an impostor ; that is, I am what is called a religious ad- 
venturess — a new term, I grant, and perhaps only applicable to 
a very few. My aunt was considered, by a certain set, to be a 
great prophetess, which I hardly need tell you was all nonsense; 
nevertheless, there are hundreds who believed in her, and do so 
now. Brought up with my aunt, I soon found out what fools 
and dupes may be made of mankind by taking advantage of 
their credulity. She had her religious inspirations, her trances, 
and her convulsions, and I was always behind the scenes ; she 
confided in me, and I may say that I was her only confidant. 
You cannot, therefore, wonder at my practising that deceit to 
which I have been brought up from almost my infancy. In 
person I am the exact counterpart of what my aunt was at my 
age, equally so in figure, although my figure is now disguised 


JAl’IIET, IX SEARCE OF A FATHER. 31 

to rosemble that of a woman of her age. I often had dressed 
myself in my aunt’s clothes, put on her cap and front, and then 
the resemblance was very striking. My aunt fell sick and died, 
but she promised the disciples that she would re-appear to 
them, and they believed her. I did not. She was buried, and 
by many her return was anxiously expected. It occurred to 
me about a week afterwards that I might contrive to deceive 
them. I dressed in my aunt’s clothes, I painted and disguised 
my face as you have seen, and the deception was complete, 
even to myself, as I surveyed my countenance in the glass. I 
boldly set off in the evening to the tabernacle, which I knew 
they still frequented — came into the midst of them, and they 
fell down and worshipped me as a prophetess risen from the 
dead ; deceived, indeed, by my appearance, but still more de- 
ceived by their own credulity. For two years I have been 
omnipotent with them ; but there is one difficulty which shakes 
the faith of the new conv^ts, and new converts I must have, 
Japhet, as the old ones die, or I should not be able to fee my 
physician. It is this : by habit I can almost throw myself 
into a stupor or a convulsion, but to do that effectually, to be 
able to carry on the deception for so long a time, and to un- 
dergo the severe fatigue attending such violent exertion, it is ne- 
cessary that I have recourse to stimulants — do you understand ?” 

“ I do,” replied I ; “ I have more than once thought you 
under the influence of them towards the evening. I’m afraid 
that you take more than is good for your health.” 

“ Not more than I require for what I have to undergo to 
keep up the faith of my disciples ; but there are many who 
waver, some who doubt, and I find that my movements arc 
watched. I cannot trust the woman in this house. I think 
she is a spy set upon me, but I cannot remove her, as this 
house, and all which it contains, are not mine, but belong to the 
disciples in general. There is another woman, not far off, who 
is my rival ; she calls me an impostor, and says that she is the 
true prophetess, and that I am not one. This will be rather 
difficult for h t to prove,” continued she, with a mocking smile 


32 


JArilET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ Beset as I am, I require your assistance ; for you must be 
aware that it is rather discreditable to a prophetess, who ha? 
risen from the dead, to be seen all day at the gin-shop, yet 
without stimulants now I could not exist.^^ 

“ And how can I assist you ?” 

By sending me, as medicine, that which I dare no longer 
procure in any other way, and keeping the secret which I have 
imparted.” 

“ I will do both with pleasure ; but yet,” said I, “is it not a 
pity, a thousand pities, that one so young — and if you will 
allow me to add, so lovely, should give herself up to ardent 
spirits ? Why,” continued I, taking her small white hand, 
“ why should you carry on the deception : why sacrifice your 

health, and I may say your happiness ” What more I 

might have said I know not, probably it might have been an 
olfer of marriage, but she cut me short. 

“ Why does every body sacrifice their health, their happiness, 
their all, but for ambition and the love of power ? It is true, 
as long as this little beauty lasts, I might be courted as a 
woman, but never should I be worshipped as — I may say — a 
god. — No, no, there is something too delightful in that adora- 
tion, something too pleasant in witnessing a crowd of fools stare, 
and men of three times my age, falling down and kissing the 
hem of my garment. This is, indeed, adoration I the delight 
arising from it is so great, that all other passions are crushed by it 
— it absorbs all other feelings, and has closed my heart even 
against love, Japhet. I could not, I would not debase myself, 
sink so low in my own estimation, as to allow so paltry a passion 
to have dominion over me ; and, indeed, now that I am so wed- 
ded to stimulants, even if I were no longer a prophetess, it never 
could ?” 

“ But is not intoxication one of the most debasing of all 
habits.” 

“ I grant you, in itself, but with me and in my situation it is 
different. I fall to rise again, and higher. I cannot be what I 
am without I stimulate — I cannot stimulate without stim* 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 38 

ulants, therefore it is but a means to a great and glorious 
ambition.” 

I had more conversation with her before I left, but nothing 
appeared to move her resolution, and I left her, lamenting in 
the first place, that she had abjured love, because, notwithstand 
ing the orris root, which she kept in her mouth to take away 
the smell of the spirits, I found myself very much taken with 
such beauty of person, combined with so much vigour of mind ; 
and in the second, that one so young should carry on a system 
of deceit and self-destruction. When I rose to go away she put 
five guineas in my hand to enable me to purchase what she re- 
quired. “Add to this one small favor,” said I, “ Aramathea — 
allow me a kiss.” 

“A kiss,” replied she, with scorn ; “no, Japhet, look upon 
me, for it is the last time you will behold my youth ! look upon 
me as a sepulchre, fail’ without but unsavory and rottenness 
within. Let me do you a greater kindness, let me awaken your 
dormant energies, and plant that ambition in your soul, which 
may lead to all that is great and good — a better path and more 
worthy of a man than the one which I have partly chosen, and 
partly destiny has decided for me. Look upon me as your 
friend ; although, perhaps, you truly say, no friend unto myself. 
Farewell — remember that to-morrow you will send the medicine 
which I require.” 

I left her, and returned home : it was late. I went to bed, 
and having disclosed as much to Timothy as I could safely veiv 
ture to do, I fell fast asleep, but her figure and her voice haunt- 
ed me in my dreams. At one time, she appeared before me in 
her painted, enamelled face, and then the mask fell off, and I 
fell at her feet to worship her extreme beauty ; then her beauty 
would vanish, and she would appear an image of loathsomeness 
and deformity, and I felt suffocated with the atmosphere im- 
pregnated with the smell of liquor. I would awake and compose 
myself again, glad to be rid of the horrid dream, but again 
would she appear, with a hydra’s tail, like Sin in Stilton’s Para- 
dise Lost, wind herself round me, her beautiful face gradually 

2 * 


34 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


clianging into that of a skeleton. I cried out with terror, and 
awoke to sleep no more, and effectually cured by my dream 
of the penchant which I felt towards Miss Aramathea Judd. 


CHAPTER YI. 

MY PRESCRIPTIONS VERY EFFECTIVE AND PALATABLE, BUT I LOSE MY 
PATIENT — ^THE FEUD EQUAL TO THAT OF THE MONTAGUES AND 

THE CAPULETS RESULTS DIFFERENT MERCUTIO COMES OFF 

UNHURT. 

The next day I sent Timothy to purchase some highly rectified 
white brandy, which I coloured with a blue tincture, and added 
to it a small proportion of the essence of cinnamon, to disguise 
the smell ; a dozen large vials, carefully tied up and sealed, 
were dispatched to her abode. She now seldom called unless it 
was early in the morning ; I made repeated visits to her house 
to receive money, but no longer to make love. One day I re- 
quested permission to be present at their meeting, and to this 
she gave immediate consent ; indeed we were on the most inti- 
mate terms, and when she perceived that I no longer attempted 
to play the fool, I was permitted to remain for hours with her in 
conversation. She had, as she told me she intended, re-enamel- 
led and painted her face, but knowing what beauty was con- 
cealed underneath, I no longer felt any disgust. 

Timothy was very much pleased at his share of this arrange- 
ment, as he seldom brought her the medicine without pocketing 
half-a-crown. 

For two or three months every thing went on very satisfac- 
torily ; but one evening, Timothy, who had been sent with the 
basket of vials for Miss Judd’s assistance, returned in great 
consternation, informing me that the house was empty. He had 
inquired of the neighbours, and from the accounts given, which 
were very contradictory, it appeared that the rival prophetess 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 35 

had marched up at the head of her proselytes the evening 
before, and obtained entrance, and that a desperate contention 
had been the result. That the police had been called in, and 
all parties had been lodged in the watch-house : that the whole 
affair was being investigated by the magistrates, and that it 
was said that Miss Judd and all her coadjutors would be sent 
to the Penitentiary. This was quite enough to frighten two 
boys like us; for days afterwards we trembled when people came 
into the shop, expecting to be summoned and imprisoned. Gra 
dually, however, our fears were dismissed, but I never from that 
time heard any thing more of Miss Aramathea Judd. 

After this affair, I adhered steadily to my business, and pro- 
fiting by the advice given me by that young person, improved 
rapidly in my profession, as well as in general knowledge ; but 
my thoughts, as usual, were upon one subject — my parentage, 
and the mystery hanging over it. My eternal reveries became 
at last so painful, that I had recourse to reading to drive them 
away, and subscribing to a good circulating library, I was sel- 
dom without a book in my hand! By this time I had been 
nearly two years and a half with Mr. Cophagus, when an ad- 
venture occurred which I must attempt to describe with all the 
dignity with which it ought to be invested. 

This is a world of ambition, competition, and rivalry. Nation 
rivals nation, and flies to arras, cutting the throats of a few thou- 
sands on each side till one finds that it has the worst of it. Man 
rivals man, and hence detraction, duels, and individual death. 
Woman rivals woman, and hence loss of reputation and position 
in high, and loss of hair, and fighting with pattens in low, life. 
Are we then to be surprised that this universal passion, unde- 
terred by the smell of drugs and poisonous compounds, should 
enter into apothecaries’ shops ? But two streets — two very 
short streets from our own — was situated the single-fronted 
shop of Mr: Ebenezer Pleggit. Thank Heaven, it was only 
single-fronted ; there, at least, we had the ascendency over 
them. Upon other points, our advantages were more equally 
balanced Mr. Fleggit had two large coloured bottles in his 


36 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH . OF A FATHER. 


windows more than we had ; but then we had two horses, and 
he had only one. lie tied over the corks of his bottles with red- 
coloured pajDer ; we covered up the lips of our vials with deli- 
cate blue. It certainly was the case — for though an enemy I’ll 
do him justice — that, after Mr. Brookes had left us, Mr Pleggit 
had two shopmen, and Mr. Cophagus only one ; but then that 
one was Mr. Japhet Newland ; besides, one of his assistants 
had only one eye, the other squinted horribly, so if we mea- 
sured by eyes, I think the advantage was actually on our side ; 
and, as far as ornament went, most decidedly ; for who would 
not prefer putting on his chimney-piece one handsome, elegant 
vase, than two damaged, ill-looking pieces of crockery ? Mr. 
Pleggit had ce]ri:ainly a gilt mortar and pestle over his door, 
which Mr. Cophagus had omitted when he furnished his shop ; 
but then the mortar had a great crack down the middle, and 
the pestle had lost its knob. And let me ask those who have 
been accustomed to handle it, what is a pestle without a knob ? 
On the whole, I think, with the advantage of having tw^o 
fronts, like Janus, w^e certainly had the best of the comparison; 
but I shall leave the impartial to decide. 

All I can say is, that the feuds of the rival houses were most 
bitter — the hate intense — the mutual scorn unmeasurable. 
Did Mr. Ebenezer Pleggit meet Mr. Phineas Cophagus in the 
street, the former immediately began to spit as if he had swal- 
lowed some of his own vile adulterated drugs ; and in rejoin- 
der, Mr. Cophagus immediately raised the cane from his nose 
high above his forehead in so threatening an attitude as almost 
to w^arrant the other swearing the peace against him, muttering, 
“Ugly puppy — knows nothing — urn — patients die — and so on.” 

It may be well supposed that this spirit of enmity extended 
through the lower branches of the rival houses — the assistants 
and I w'ere at deadly feud ; and this feud w'as even more 
deadly between the boys wdio carried out the medicines, and 
wdiose baskets might, in some measure, have been looked upon 
as the rival ensigns of the parties, they themselves occupying 
the dangerous and honourable post of standard bearers. 


JAPIIET, I\ SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


37 


rimothy, although the kindesMiearted fellow iu the world, 
vras as good a hater as Dr. Johnson himself could have wished 
to meet with ; and when sometimes his basket was not so well 
filled as usual, he would fill it up with empty bottles below, 
rather than that the credit of the house should be suspected, 
and his deficiencies create a smile of scorn in the mouth of his 
red-haired antagonist, when they happened to meet going their 
rounds. As yet, no actual collision had taken place between 
either the principals or the subordinates of the hostile factions ; 
but it was fated that this state of quiescence should no longer 
remain. 

Homer has sung the battle of gods, demigods, and heroes ; 
Milton the strife of angels. Swift has been great in his Battle 
of the Books ; but I am not aware that the battle of the vials 
has as yet been sung; and it requires a greater genius than 
was to be found in those who portrayed the conflicts of heroes, 
demigods, gods, angels, or books, to do adequate justice to the 
mortal strife which took place between the lotions, potions, 
draughts, pills, and embrocations. I must tell the story as 
well as I can, leaving it as an outline for a future epic. 

Burning with all the hate which infuriated the breasts of 
the two houses of Capulet and Montagu, hate each day increas- 
ing from years of “biting thumbs” at each other, and yet no 
excuse presenting itself for an affray, Timothy Oldmixon — for 
on such an occasion it would be a sin to omit his whole designa- 
tion — Timothy Oldmixon, I say, burning with hate and eager 
with haste, turning a coBner of the street with his basket well 
filled with medicines hanging on his left arm, encountered, 
equally eager in his haste, and equally burning in his hate, the 
red-haired Mercury of Mr. Ebenezer Pleggit. Great was the 
concussion of the opposing baskets, dire was the crash of many 
of the vials, and dreadful was the mingled odour of the abomi- 
nations which escaped, and poured through the wicked inter- 
stices. Two ladies from Billmgsgate, who were near, indulging 
their rhetorical powers, stopped short. Two tom-cats, who 
were on an adjacent roof, just fixing their eyes of enmity and 


88 


JAPitET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


about to fix their claws, turned their eyes to the scene below. 
Two political antagonists stopped their noisy arguments. Two 
dustmen ceased to ring their bells ; and two little urchins eat- 
ing cherries from the crowns of their hats, lost sight of their 
fruit, and stood aghast with fear. They met, and met with 
Buch violence, that they each rebounded many paces ; but like 
stalwart knights, each kept his basket and his feet. A few 
seconds to recover breath ; one withering, fiery look from 
Timothy, returned by his antagonist, one flash of the memory 
in each to tell them that they each had the la on their side, 
and “ Take that I” was roared by Timothy, planting a well- 
directed blow with his dexter and dexterous hand upon the 
sinister and sinisterous eye of his opponent. “ Take that !” 
continued he, as his adversary reeled back ; “ take that, and 
be d d to you, for running against a gentlcmanP 

He of the rubicund hair had retreated, because so violent 
was the blow he could not help so doing, and we all must yield 
to fate. But it was not from fear. Seizing a vile potation 
that was labelled “ To be taken immediately,” and hurling it 
with demoniacal force right on the chops of the courageous 
Timothy, “ Take that I” cried he with a rancorous yell. This 
missile, well directed as the spears of Homer’s heroes, came full 
upon tlie bridge of Timothy’s nose, and the fragile glass shiver- 
ing, inflicted divers wounds upon his physiognomy, and at the 
same time poured forth a dark burnt-sienna-coloured balsam, 
to heal them, giving pain unutterable. Timothy, disdaining to 
lament the agony of his wounds, followed the example of his 
antagonist, and* hastily seizing a similar bottle of much larger 
dimensions, threw it with such^orce that it split between the 
eyes of his opponent. Thus with these dreadful weapons did 
they commence the mortal strife. 

The lovers of good order, or at least of fair play, gathered 
round the combatants, forming an almost impregnable ring, 
yet of sufficient dimensions to avoid the missiles. “ Go it, 
red-head!'^ Bravo! white apron resounded on every side. 
Draughts now n^t draughts in their passage through the cir 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


30 


cumambient air, and exploded like shells over a besieged town. 
Boluses were fired with the precision of cannon shot, pill- 
boxes were thrown with such force that they burst like grape 
and canister, while acids and alkalies hissed, as they neutral- 
ized each other’s power, with all the venom of expiring snakes, 
“ Bravo I white apron I” “ Ked-head for ever I” resounded or 
every side as the conflict continued with unabated vigour 
The ammunition was fast expending on both sides, when Mr, 
Bbenezer Pleggit, hearing the noise, and perhaps smelling his 
own drugs, was so unfortunately rash and so unwisely fool- 
hardy as to break through the sacred ring, advancing from 
behind with uplifted cane to fell the redoubtable Timothy, 
when a mixture of his own, hurled by his own red-haired cham- 
pion, caught him in his open mouth, breaking against his only 
two remaining front teeth, extracting them as the discharged 
liquid ran down his throat, and turning him as sick as a dog. 
He fell, was taken away on a shutter, and it was some days 
before he was again to be seen in his shop, dispensing those 
medicines which, on this fatal occasion, he would but too 
gladly have dispensed with. 

Reader, have you not elsewhere read in the mortal fray 
between knights, when the casque has been beaten olF, the 
shield lost, and the sword shivered, how they have resorted to 
closer and more deadly strife with their daggers raised on 
high ? Thus it was with Timothy : his means had failed, and 
disdaining any longer to wage a distant combat, he closed 
vigorously wHih his panting enemy, overthrew him in the first 
struggle, seizing from his basket the only weapons which 
remained, one single vial, and one single box of pills. As he 
sat upon his prostrate foe, first he forced the box of pills into 
his gasping mouth, and then with the lower end of the vial he 
drove it down his throat, as a gunner rams home the wad and 
shot into a thirty-two pound carronade. Choked with the box, 
the fallen knight held up his hands for quarter ; but Timothy 
continued until the end of the vial, breaking out the top and 
bottom of the pasteboard receptacle, forty-and-eight of anti- 


40 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

bilious pills rolled in haste down red-head’s throat. Timothy 
then seized his basket, and amid the shouts of triumph, walked 
away. His fallen-crested adversary coughed up the remnants 
of the pasteboard, once more breathed, and was led disconso- 
late to the neighbouring pump ; while Timothy regained our 
shop with his blushing honours thick upon him. 

But I must drop the vain heroical. Mr. Cophagus, who 
was at home when Timothy returned, was at first very much 
inclined to be wroth at the loss of so much medicine ; but when 
he heard the story, and the finale, he was so pleased at Tim’s 
double victory over Mr. Pleggit and Ins messenger, that he 
actually put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out half-a- 
crown. 

Mr. Pleggit, on the contrary, was any thing but pleased ; 
he went to a lawyer, and commenced an action for assault and 
battery, and all the neighbourhood did nothing but talk about 
the* affray which had taken place, and the action at law which 
it was said would take place in the ensuing term. 

But with the exception of this fracas, which ended in the 
action not holding good, whereby the animosity was increased, 
I have little to recount during the remainder of the time 1 
served under Mr. Cophagus. I had been more than three 
years with him when my confinement became insupportable. 
I had but one idea, which performed an everlasting cycle in my 
brain — ^Who was my father ? And I should have abandoned 
the profession to search the world in the hope of finding my 
progenitor, had it not been that I was without the means. 
Latterly, I had hoarded up all I could collect ; but the sum 
was small, much too small for the proposed expedition. I 
became melancholy, indifferent to the business, and slovenly 
in my appearance, when a circumstance occurred which put 
an end to my further dispensing medicines, and left me a free 
agent. » 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


4i 


CHAPTER YIL 

LOOKING OUT FOR BUSINESS NOT EXACTLY MINDING YOUR OWN BUSI- 
NESS ^THE LOSS OF THE SCALES OCCASIONS THE LOSS OF PLACE 

TO TIMOTHY AND ME, WHO WHEN WEIGHED IN OTHER SCALES 

WERE FOUND WANTING WE BUNDLE OFF AVITH OUR BUNDLES 

ON. 

It happened one market-day that there was an overdriven, 
infuriated beast, which was making sad havoc. Crowds of 
people were running past our shop in one direction, and the 
cries of “ Mad bull ?” were re-echoed in every quarter. Mr. 
Cophagus, Avho Avas in the shop, and to whom, as I have 
before observed, a mad bull was a source of great profit, very 
naturally looked out of the shop to ascertain whether the 
animal was near to us. In most other countries, when people 
hear of any danger, they generally avoid it by increasing their 
distance ; but in England, it is too often the case, that they 
are so fond of indulging their curiosity, that they run to the 
danger. Mr. Cophagus, who perceived the people running one 
Avay, naturally supposed, not being aware of the extreme prox- 
imity of the animal, that the people were running to see Avhat 
was the matter, and turned his eyes in that direction, Avalking 
out on the pavement that he might have a fairer vicAv. He 
Avas just observing, “ Can’t say — fear — um — rascal Pleggit — 
close to him — get all the custom — wounds — contusions — and 

” when the animal came suddenly round the corner upon 

Mr. Cophagus, avIio had his eyes the other way, and before he 
could escape, tossed him through his own shop windows, and 
landed him on the counter. Not satisfied with this, the beast 
foIloAved him into the shop. Timothy and I pulled Mr. Co}> 
hagus over towards us, and he dropped inside the counter, 
Avhere we also crouched, frightened out of our Avits. To our 
great horror the bull made one or tAvo attempts to leap the 
counter ; but not succeeding, and being now attacked by the 


42 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

dogs and butcher boys, he charged at them through the door, 
carrying away our best scales on his horns as a tro^^hy, as he 
galloped out of the shop in pursuit of his persecutors. When 
the shouts and hallooes Vi^ere at some little distance, Timothy 
and I raised our heads and looked round us ; and perceiving 
that all was safe, we proceeded to help Mr. Cophagus, who 
remained on the floor bleeding, and in a state of insensibility. 
We carried him into the back, parlour and laid him on the 
sofa. I desired Timothy to run for surgical aid as fast as he 
could, while I opened a vein ; and in a few minutes he returned 
with our opponent, Mr. Ebenezer Pleggit. We stripped Mr. 
Cophagus, and proceeded to examine him. “ Bad case this — 
very bad case, indeed, Mr. Newland — dislocation of the os 
humeri — severe contusion on the os frontis — and I’m very 
much afraid there is some intercostal injury. Very sorry, 
very sorry, indeed, for my brother Cophagus.” But Mr. 
Pleggit did not appear to be sorry ; on the contrary, he 
appeared to perform his surgical duties with the greatest 
glee. 

We reduced the dislocation, and then carried Mr. Cophagus 
up to his bed. In an hour he was sensible ; and Mr. Pleggit 
took his departure, shaking hands with Mr. Cophagus, and 
wishing him joy of his providential escape. “ Bad job, Japhet,” 
said Mr. Cophagus to me. 

‘‘Very bad, indeed, sir ; but it might have been worse.” 

“Worse — um — no, nothing worse — not possible.” 

“ Why, sir, you might have been killed.” 

“ Pooh I didn’t mean that — mean Pleggit — rascal — ^um — kill 
me if he can — shan’t though — soon get rid of him — and so 
on.” 

“You will not require his further attendance now that your 
shoulder is reduced. I can very well attend upon you.” 

“Very true, Japhet ; — but won’t go — sure of that — damned 
rascal — quite pleased — I saw it — um — eyes twinkled — smile 
checked — and so on.” 

That evening Mr Pleggit called in as Mr. Cophagus said 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


43 


that he would, and the latter showed a great deal of impa- 
tience ; but Mr. Pleggit repeated his visits over and over again 
and I observed that Mr. Cophagus no longer made any objec- 
tion ; on the contrary, seemed anxious for his coming, and still 
more so, after he was convalescent, and able to sit at his table. 
But the mystery was soon divulged. It appeared that Mr. 
Cojihagus, although he was very glad that other people should 
sulfer from mad bulls, and come to be cured, viewed the case in 
a very different light when the bull thought proper to toss him, 
and having now realised a comfortable independence, he had 
resolved to retire from business, and from a site attended with 
so much danger. A hint of this escaping him when Mr. Pleggit 
was attending him on the third day after his accident, the latter, 
who knew the value of the locale, also hinted that if Mr 
Cophagus was inclined so to do, that he would be most happy 
to enter into an arrangement with him. Self-interest will not 
only change friendship into enmity, in this rascally world, but 
also turn enmity into friendship. All Mr. Pleggit’s enormities, 
and all Mr. Cophagus’s shameful conduct, were mutually for- 
gotten. In less than ten minutes it was “ My dear Mr. Pleggit, 
and so on,” and My dear brother CojphagusJ’ 

111 three weeks everything had been arranged between them, 
and the shop, fixtures, stock in trade, and good will, were all 
the property of our ancient antagonist. But although Mr. 
Pleggit could shake hands with Mr. Cophagus for his fixtures 
and good will, yet as Timothy and I were not included in the 
good will, neither were we included among the fixtures, and Mr 
Cophagus could not, of course, interfere with Mr. PleggiCs 
private arrangements. He did all he could do in the way of 
recommendation ; but Mr. Pleggit had not forgotten my oc- 
casional impertinences or the battle of the bottles. I really 
believe that his ill will against Timothy was one reason for pur- 
chasing the good will of Mr. Cophagus ; and we were very 
gently told by Mr. Pleggit that he would have no occasion for 
om* services. 

Mr. Cophagus offered to procure me another situation as soon 


44 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


as he v'^ould, and at the same time presented me with twenty 
guineas, as a proof of his regard and appreciation of my con- 
duct — but this sum put in my hand decided me : I thanked 
him, and told him I had other views at present, but hoped he 
would let me know where I might find him hereafter, as I 
should be glad to see him again. He told me he would leave 
his address for me at the Foundling Hospital, and shaking me 
heartily by the hand, we parted. Timothy was then summoned. 
Mr. Cophagus gave him five guineas, and wished him good for- 
tune. 

“ And now, Japhet, what are you about to do ?” said Timo- 
thy, as he descended into the shop. 

“ To, do,” replied I ; “ I am about to leave you, which is the 
only thing I am sorry for. I am going, Timothy, in search of 
my father.” 

“Well,” replied Timothy, “I feel as you do, Japhet, that it 
will be hard to part ; and there is another thing on my mind — 
which is, I am very sorry that the bull did not break the rudi- 
mans (pointing to the iron mortar and pestle) ; had he had but 
half the spite I have against it, he would not have left a piece 
as big as a thimble. Pve a great mind to have a smack at it 
before I go.” 

“You will only injure Mr. Cophagus, for the mortar will not 
then be paid for.” 

“ Yery true ; and as he has just given me five guineas, I will 
refrain from my just indignation. But now, Japhet, let me 
speak to you. I don’t know how you feel, but I feel as if I 
could not part with you. I do not want to go in search of my 
father particularly. They say it’s a wise child that knows its 
own father — but as there can be no doubt of my other parent 
— if I can only hit upon her, I have a strong inclination to go 
in search of my mother, and if you like my company, why I will 
go with you — always, my dear Japhet,” continued Tim, “keep- 
ing in my mind the great difference between a person who has 
Oeen feed as an M.D., and a lad who only carries out his jire 
scriptious.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 45 

“ Do you really mean to say, Tim, that you will go with 
me 

“Yes, to the end of the world, Japhet, as your companion, 
your friend, and your servant, if you require it. I love you, 
J aphet, and I will serve you faithfully.” 

“ My dear Tim, I am delighted ; now I am really happy ; 
we will have but one purse, and but one interest ; if I find good 
fortune, you shall share it.” 

“And if you meet with ill luck, I will share that too — so 
the affair is settled — and as here comes Mr. Pleggit’s assistants 
with only one pair of eyes between them, the sooner we pack 
up the better.” 

In half an hour all was ready ; a bundle each contained our 
wardrobes. We descended from our attic, walked proudly 
through the shop without making any observation, or taking 
any notice of our successors; all the notice taken was by Timothy, 
who turned, round and shook his fist at his old enemies, the iron 
mortar and pestle ; and there we were, standing on the pave- 
ment, with the wide world before us, and quite undecided which 
way we should go. 

“Is it to be east, west, north, or south, Japhet ?” said 
Timothy. 

“ The wise men came from the east,” replied I. 

“Then they must have travelled west,” said Tim ; “let us 
show our wisdom by doing the same.” 

“ Agreed.” 

Passing by a small shop we purchased two good sticks as 
defenders — as well as to hang our bundles on — aud off we set 
upon our pilgrimage. 


46 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


CHAPTER YIII. 

WE TAKE A COACH, BUT THE DRIVER DOES NOT LIKE HIS FARE AND 

HITS US FOUL WE CHANGE OUR MODE OF TRAVELLING, UPON 

THE PRINCIPLE OF SLOW AND SURE, AND FALL IN WITH A VERY 
LEARNED MAN. 

I BELIEVE it to be a very general custom, when people set off 
upon a journey, to reckon up their means — that, is, to count the 
money which they may have in their pockets. At all events, 
this was done by Timothy and me, and I found that my stock 
amounted to twenty-two pounds eighteen shillings, and Timothy’s, 
to the five guineas presented by Mr. Cophagus, and three half- 
pence which were in the corner of his waiscoat pocket — sum 
total, twenty-eight pounds three shillings and three halfpence ; 
a very handsome sum, as we thought, with which to commence 
our peregrinations, and, as I observed to Timothy, sufficient to 
last us for a considerable time, if husbanded with care. 

“ Yes,” replied he, “ but we must husband our legs also, 
Japhet, or we shall soon be tired, and very soon wear out our 
shoes. I vote we take a hackney coach.” 

“Take a hackney coach, Tim 1 we mustn’t think of it ; ^e 
cannot afford such a luxury ; you can’t be tired yet, we are now 
only just clear of Hyde Park Corner.” 

“ Still I think we had better take a coach, Japhet, and here 
is one coming. I always do take one when I carry out medi- 
cines, to make up for the time I lose looking at the shops, and 
playing peg in the ring.” 

“ I now understood what Timothy meant, which was, to get 
behind and have a ride for nothing. I consented to this ar 
rangcment, and we got up behind one which was already well 
Oiled inside. “ The only difference between an inside and out- 
side passenger in a hackney coach is, that one pays, and the 
other does not,” said I, to Timothy, as we rolled along at the 
act of parliament speed of four miles per hour. 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 47 

“ That depends upon circumstances : if we are found out, in 
all probability we shall not only have our ride, but be jpaid into 
the bargain.” 

With the coachman’s whip, I presume ?” 

“ Exactly.” And Timothy had hardly time to get the word 
out of his mouth, when flac, flac, came the whip across our 
eyes — a little envious wretch, with his shirt hanging out of his 
trowsers, having called out. Cut lehiiid !. Not wishing to have 
our faces, or our behinds cut any more, w^e hastily descended 
and reached the footpath, after having gained about three 
miles on the road before we were discovered. 

“ That wasn’t a bad lift, Japhet, and as for the whip, I never 
mind that with corduroys. And now, Japhet, I’ll tell you some- 
thing ; we must get into a waggon, if we can find one going 
down the road, as soon as it is dark.” 

“ But that will cost money, Tim.” 

“ It’s economy, I tell you ; for a shilling, if you bargain, you 
may ride the whole night, and if we stop at a public-house to 
sleep, we shall have to pay for our beds, as w'ell as be obliged 
to order something to eat, and pay dearer for it than if we buy 
what we want at cooks’ shops.” 

“ There is sense in what you say,, Timothy ; wm will look out 
for a wmggon.” 

“ Oh I it’s no use now — waggons are like black beetles, not 
only in shape but in habits, they only travel by night — at least 
most of them do. We are now coming into long dirty Brent- 
ford, and I don’t know how you feel, Japhet, but I find that 
walking wonderfully increases the appetite — that’s another rea- 
son why you should not walk when you can ride — for nothing.” 

“Well, I’m rather, hungry myself ; and dear me, how very 
good that piece of remst pork looks in that window I” 

“ I agree with you — ^let’s go in and make a bargain !” 

. We bought a good allowance for a shilling, and after sticking 
out for a greater proportion of mustard than the woman said 
we were entitled to, and some salt, we wrapped ?t up in a piece 
of paper, and continued our course, till we arrived at a baker’s, 


48 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


where we purchased our bread ; and then taking up a position 
on a bench outside a public-house, called for a pot of beer, and 
putting our provisions down before us, made a hearty, and, what 
made us more enjoy it, an independent meal. Having finished 
our pork and our porter, and refreshed ourselves, we again 
started and walked till it was quite dark, when we fell so tired 
that we agreed to sit down on our bundles and wait for the first 
waggon which passed. We soon heard the jingling of bells, 
and shortly afterwards its enormous towering bulk appeared 
between us and the sky. We went up to the waggoner, who 
was mounted on a little pony, and asked him if he could give 
two poor lads a lift, and how much he would charge us for the 
ride. 

“ How much can ye afford to give, measters I for there 
be others as poor as ye.” We replied that we could give a 
shilling. “Well then, get up in God’s name, and ride as 
long as you will. Get in behind.” 

“ Are there many people in there already ?” said I, as 1 
climbed up, and Timothy handed me the bundles. 

“ Noa,” replied the waggoner, “ there be nobody but a 
mighty clever poticary or doctor, I can’t tell which ; but he 
wear an uncommon queer hat, and he talk all sort of doc- 
tor stuff — and there be his odd man and his odd boy ; that be 
all, and there be plenty of room, and plenty o’ clean straJP 

After this intimation we climbed up, and gained a situation 
in the rear of the waggon under the cloth. As the waggoner 
said, there was plenty of room, and we nestled into the straw 
without coming into contact with the other travellers. Not 
feeling any inclination to sleep, Timothy and I entered into con- 
versation, soUo voce, and had continued for more than half an 
hour, supposing by their silence, that the other occupants of 
the waggon were asleep, when we were interrupted by a voice 
clear and sonorous as a bell. 

“ It would appear that you are wanderers, young men, and 
journey you know not whither. Birds seek their nests when the 
night falls — beasts hasten to their lairs — man bolts his door. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


49 


‘ Propia qua maribus,^ as Herodotus hath it ; which, when 
translated, means, that ‘ such is the nature of mankind.’ ‘ Tri- 
buuntur mascula dicas/ ‘ Tell me your troubles,’ as Homer 
says.” 

I was very much surprised at this address — my knowledge oi 
the language told ine immediately that the quotations were out 
of the Latin grammar, and that all his learning was pretence ; 
still there was a novelty of style which amused me, and at the 
same time gave me an idea that the speaker was an uncommon 
personage. I gave Timothy a nudge, and then replied, — 

“You have guessed right, most learned sir ; we are, as you 
say, wanderers seeking our fortunes, and trust yet to find them 
— still we have a weary journey before us. ‘ Haustus hora smini 
suTMudum,^ as Aristotle hath it ; which I need not translate to 
so learned a person as yourself.” 

“ Nay, indeed there is no occasion; yet am I pleased to meet 
with one who hath scholarship,” replied the other. “ Have 
you also a knowledge of the Greek ?” 

“ No, I pretend not to Greek.” 

“ It is a pity that thou hast it not, for thou wouldst delight 
to commune with the ancients. Esculapius hath these words — 
‘ As/wMer — ofimotton ^ccapon — ^pasti — vemson,’ — which I will 
translate for thee — ‘ We often find what we seek when we least 
expect it.’ May it* be so with you, my friend. Where have 
you been educated ? and what has been your profession ?” 

I thought I risfed little in telling, so I replied, that I had 
been brought up as a surgeon and apothecary, and had been 
educated at a foundation school. ^ 

“’Tiswell,” replied he; “you have then commenced your 
studies in my glorious profession; still, have you much to learn; 
years of toil, under a great master, can only enable you to 
benefit mankind as I have done, and years of hardship and of 
danger must be added thereunto, to afford you the means. 
There are many hidden secrets. ‘ Ut sunt Divorum, Mars^ 
Bacchus, Ajpollo, Virorum, — many parts of the globe to traverse, 
Ut Cato, Virgilius, fluviorum, ut Tibris, Orontes.^ All these 
• 3 


50 JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

have I visited, and many more. Even now do I jonrney to ob- 
tain more of my invaluable medicine, gathered on the highest 
Andes, when the moon is in her perigee. There I shall re- 
main for months among the clouds, looking down upon the 
great plain of Mexico, which shall appear no larger than the 
head of a pin, where the voice of man is heard not. * Vocito, 
vocitas, vodtavi,^ bending for months towards the earth. ‘As in 
presenti/ suffering with the cold — ‘frico quod fricui dat/ as 
Eusebius hath it. Soon shall I be borne away by the howling 
winds towards the New World, where I can obtain more of the 
wonderful medicine, which I may say never yet hath failed me, 
and which nothing but love towards my race induces me to. 
gather at such pains and risk.” 

“ Indeed, sir,” replied I, amused with his imposition, “ I 
should like to accompany you — ^for, as Josephiis says most truly, 

‘ Capiat pilules dues post prandium? Travel is, indeed, a most 
delightful occupation, and I would like to run over the whole 
world.” 

“And I would like to follow you,” interrupted Timothy. 
“ I suspect we have commenced our grand tour already — three 
miles behind a hackney coach — ten on foot, and about two, I 
should think, in this wagon. But as Cophagus says, ‘ Cochlear- 
ija crash many simmendush,^ which means, ‘ There are ups and 
downs in this world.’ ” 

“ Hah !” exclaimed our companion, “^e, also, has the 
rudiments.” 

“Nay, I hope I’ve done with the Rudimans/^ replied Tim- 
othy. 

“ Is he your follower ?” inquired the man. 

“That very much depends upon who walks first,” replied 
Timothy; “but whether or no — we hunt in couples,” 

“I understand — you are companions. < Concordat cum 
nominativo numero et persona' Tell me, can you roll pills, can 
you use the pestle and the mortar, handle the scapula, and mix 
ingredients ?” 

I replied that ol’ course I knew my profession 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


51 


“Well, then, as we have still some hours of night, let us now 
obtain some rest. In the morning, when the sun hath intro- 
duced us to each other, I may then judge from your counte 
nances whether it is likely that we may be better acquainted. 
Night is the time for repose, as Quintus Curtius says, ‘ Gustos, 
bos, fur atque sacerdos.^ Sleep was made for all — my friends, 
good night.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

IN WHICH THE ADVENTURES IN THE WAGGON ARE CONTINUED, AND 

WE BECOME MORE PUZZLED WITH OUR NEW COMPANIONS WE 

LEAVE OFF TALKING LATIN, AND ENTER INTO AN ENGAGEMENT. 

Timothy and I took his advice, and were soon fast asleep. I 
was awakened next morning by feeling a hand in my trowsers 
pocket. I seized it, and held it fast. 

“Now just let go my hand, will you ?” cried a lachrymal 
voice. 

“ I jumped up — it was broad daylight — and looked at the 
human frame to which the hand was an appendix. It was a 
very spare, awkwardly-built form of a young man, apparently 
about twenty years old, but without the least sign of manhood 
on his chin. His face was cadaverous, with large goggling 
eyes, high cheek bones, hair long and ragged, reminding me of 
a rat’s nest, thin lips, and ears large almost as an elephant’s. 
A more woe-begone wretch in appearance I never beheld, and 
I continued to look at him with surprise. He repeated his 
words with an idiotical expression, “ Just let go my hand, can’t 
you ?” 

“ What business had your hand in my pocket ?” replied I, 
angrily. 

“ I was feeling for my pocket-handkerchief,” replied the 
young man. “ I always keeps it in my breeches pocket.” 


52 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ But not iu your neighbour’s, I presume V’ 

“ My neighbour’s I” replied he, with a vacant stare. “ WeH 
so it is, I see now — I thought it was my own.” 

I released his hand ; he immediately put it into his own 
pocket, and drew out his handkerchief, if the rag deserved the 
appellation. 

“ There,” said he, “I told you I put it in that pocket — I 
always do.” 

And pray, who are you ?” said I, as I looked at his dress, 
wnich was a pair of loose white Turkish trowsers, and an old 
spangled jacket. 

“ Me I why, I’m the fool.” 

“ More knave than fool, I expect,” replied I, still much puz- 
zled with his strange appearance and dress. 

“jN'ay, there you mistake,” said the voice of last night. 
“ He is not only a fool by profession, but one by nature. It is 
a half-witted creature, who serves me when I would attract the 
people. Strange, in this world, that wisdom may cry in the 
streets without being noticed, yet folly will always command a 
crowd.” 

During this address, I turned my eyes upon the speaker, 
lie was an elderly-looking person, with white hair, dressed in a 
suit of black, ruffles and frill. His eyes were brilliant, but the 
remainder of his face it was difficult to decipher, as it was evi- 
dently painted, and the night’s jumbling in the waggon had so 
smeared it, that it appeared of almost every colour iu the rain- 
bow. On one side of him lay a large three-cornered cocked 
hat, on the other, a little lump of a boy, rolled up in the straw 
like a marmot, and still sound asleep. Timothy looked at me, 
and when he caught my eye, burst out into a laugh. 

“ You laugh at my appearance, I presume,” said the old man, 
mildly. 

“ I do in truth,” replied Timothy. “ I never saw one like 
you before, and I dare say never shall again.” 

“ That is possible ; yet probably if you meet me again you 
would not know me.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


53 


“Among a hundred thousand,” replied Timothy, with 
increased mirth. 

“We shall see, perhaps,” replied the quack doctor, for such 
the reader must have already ascertained to be his profession ; 
“but the waggon has stopped, and the driver will bait his 
horses. If inclined to eat, now is your time. Come, Jumbo, 
get up ; Philotas, waken him, and follow me.” 

Philotas, for so was the fool styled by his master, twisted up 
some straw, and stuffed the end of it Jnto Jumbo’s mouth. 
“Now Jumbo will think he has got something to eat. I 
always wake him that way,” observed the fool, grinning 
at us. 

It. certainly, as might be expected, did waken Jumbo, who 
uncoiled himself, rubbed his eyes, stared at the tilt of the wag- 
gon, then at us, and without saying a word, rolled himself out 
after the fool. Timothy and I followed. We found the doctor 
bargaining for some bread and bacon, his strange appearance 
exciting much amusement, and inducing the people to let him 
have a better bargain than perhaps otherwise they would have 
done. He gave a part of the refreshment to the boy and the 
fool, and walked out of the taproom with his own share. 
Timothy and I went to the pump, and had a good refreshing 
wash, and then for a shilling were permitted to make a very 
hearty breakfast. The waggon having remained about an 
hour, the driver gave us notice of his departure ; but the 
doctor was nowhere to be found. After a little delay, the 
waggoner drove off, cursing him for a hilk, and vowing that he’d 
never have any nlore to do with a “ lamed man.” In the mean 
time, Timothy and I had taken our seats in the waggon, in 
company with the fool and Master Jumbo. We commenced a 
conversation with the former, and soon found out, as the doctor 
had asserted, that he really was an idiot, so much so that it 
was painful to converse with him. As for the latter, he had 
coiled himself away to take a little more sleep. I forgot to 
mention that the boy was dressed much in the same way as the 
fool, in an old spangled jacket, and dirty white trowsers. For 


54 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

about an hour Timothy and I conversed, remarking upon the 
strange disappearance of the doctor, especially as he had given 
us hopes of employing us ; in accepting which offer, if ever it 
should be made, we had not made up our minds, when we were 
interrupted with a voice crying out, “ Hillo, my man, can you 
give a chap a lift as far as Keading for a shilling 

“Ay, get up, and welcome,” replied the waggoner. 

The waggon did not stop, but in a moment or two the new 
passenger climbed in. He was dressed in a clean smock frock, 
neatly worked up the front, leather gaiters, and stout shoes ; a 
bundle and a stick were in his hand. He smiled as he looked 
round upon the company, and showed a beautiful set of teeth. 
His face was dark, and sun-burnt, but very handsome, and his 
eyes as black as coals, and as brilliant as gas. “ Heh I player 
folk — I^ve a notion,” said he, as he sat down, looking at the 
doctor’s attendants, and laughing at us. “ Have you come far, 
gentlemen ?” continued he. 

“ From London,” was my reply. 

“ How do the crops look up above, for down here the turnips 
seem to have failed altogether ? Dry seasons won’t do for tur- 
nips.” 

I replied that I really could not satisfy him on that point, as 
it was dark when we passed. 

“ Yery true — I had forgotten that,” replied he. “ However, 
the barleys look well ; but perhaps you don’t understand farm- 
ing ?” 

I replied in the negative, and the conversation was kept up 
for two or three hours, in the course of which I mentioned the 
quack doctor, and his strange departure. 

“ That is the fellow who cured so many people at ,” 

replied he ; and the conversation then turned upon his profes- 
sion and mode of life, which Timothy and I agreed must be 
very amusing. “We shall meet him again, I dare say,” replied 
the man. “ Would you know him ?” 

“ I think so, indeed,” replied Timothy, laughing. 

“ Yes, and so you would think that you would know a guinea 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


55 


from a halfpenny, if I put it into your hands,” replied the man. 
‘‘ I do not wish to lay a bet, and win your money j but I tell 
you, that I will put either the one or the other into each of 
your hands, and if you hold it fast for one minute, and shut 
your eyes during that time, you will not be able to tell mo 
which it is that you have in it.” 

“ That I am sure I would,” replied Tim ; and I made the 
same assertion. 

“Well, I was taken in that way at a fair, and lost ten shil- 
lings by the wager; now, wedl try whether you can tell or not.” 
He took out some money from his pocket, which he selected 
without our seeing it, put a coin into the hand of each of us, 
closing our fists over it, “ and now,” said he, “ keep your eyes 
shut for a minute.” 

We did so, and a second or two afterwards we heard a voice 
which we instantly recognised. “Nay, but it was wrong to 
leave me on the way-side thus, having agreed to pay the sum 
demanded. At my age one walketh not without fatigue, ^Exci- 
fenda tamen qucedam sunt urhium' as Philostratus says, mean- 
ing, ‘ That old limbs lose their activity, and seek the help of o. 
crutch.^ ” 

“ There’s the doctor,” cried Timothy, with his eyes still 
shut. 

“ Now open your eyes,” said the man, “ and tell me, before 
you open your hand, what there is in it.” 

“ A halfpenny in mine,” said Tim. 

“ A guinea in mine,” replied I. 

We opened our hands, and they were empty. 

“ Where the devil is it ?” exclaimed I, looking at Tim. 

“And where the devil’s tne doctor?” replied he, looking 
round. 

“The money is in the doctor’s pocket,” replied the man, 
smiling. 

“ Then where is the doctor’s pocket ?” 

“ Here,” replied he, slapping his pocket, and looking signifi- 
cantly at us. “ I thought you were certain of knowing him 


56 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

again. About as certain as you were of telling the money it 
your hand.” 

He then, to our astonishment, imitated the doctor’s voice, 
and quoted ^prosody, syntax, and Latin. Timothy and I were 
still in astonishment, when he continued, “ If I had not found 
out that you were in want of employ, and further, that your 
services would be useful to me, I should not have made this dis- 
covery. Do you now think that you know enough to enter into 
my service ? It is light work, and not bad pay ; and now you 
may choose.” 

“ I trust,” said I, “ that there is no dishonesty ?” 

“ None that you need practise, if you are so scrupulous : per- 
haps your scruples may some day be removed. I make the 
most of my wares — every merchant does the same. I practise 
upon the folly of mankind — it is on that, that wise men live.” 

Timothy gave me a push, and nodded his head for me to give 
my consent. I reflected a few seconds, and at last I extended 
my hand. “ I consent,” replied I, “ with the reservation I have 
made.” 

“ You will not repent,” said he ; “ and I will take your com- 
panion, not that I want him particularly, but I do want you. 
The fact is, I want a lad of gentlemanly address, and handsome 
appearance — with the very knowledge you possess — and now we 
will say no more for the present. By-the-by was that real La- 
tin of yours ?” 

“No,” replied I, laughing ; “ you quoted the grammar, and 
I replied with medical prescriptions One was as good as the 
other.” 

“ Quite — nay, better ; for the school-boys may find me out, 
but not you. But now observe, when We come to the next cross 
road, we must get down — at least, I expect so ; but we shall 
know in a minute.” 

In about the time he mentioned, a dark, gipsy-looking man 
looked into the waggon, and spoke to our acquaintance in an 
unknown language. He replied in the same, and the man dis- 
appeared. We continued our route for about a quarter of an 


JAPHET; IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


51 


hour, when he got out, asked us to follow him, and speaking c 
few words to the fool, which I did not hear, left him and the 
boy in the waggon. We paid our fare, took possession of our 
bundles, and followed our new companion for a few minutes on 
the cross road, when he stopped, and said, “ I must now leave 
you, to prepare for your reception into our fraternity ; continue 
straight on this road until you arrive at a lime-kiln, and wait 
there till I come.” 

He sprang over a stile, and took a direction verging at an 
angle from the road, forced his way through a hedge, and dis- 
appeared from our sight. ** Upon my word, Timothy,” said I, 

I hardly know what to say to this. Have we done right in 
trusting to this man, who, I am afraid, is a great rogue ? I do 
not much like mixing with these gipsy people, for such I am 
sure he belongs to.” 

“ I really do not see how we can do better,” replied Timothy. 
** The world is all before us,, and we must force our own way 
through it. As for his being a quack doctor, I see no great harm 
in that. People put their faith in nostrums more than they do 
in regular medicines ; and it is well known that quack medi- 
cines, as they call them, cure as often as others, merely for that 
very reason.” 

“ Very true, Timothy ; the mind once at ease, the body soon 
recovers, and faith, even in quack medicines, will often make 
people whole ; but do you think that he does no more than im- 
pose upon people in that way ?” 

“ He may, or he may not ; at all events, we need do no 
more, I suppose.” 

“ I am not sure of that ; however, we shall see. He says we 
may be useful to him, and I suppose we shall be, or he would 
not have engaged us — we shall soon find out.” 


3* 


58 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 


CHAPTER X. 

IN WHICH THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO SEVERAL NEW ACQUAINT 

ANCES, AND ALL CONNECTED WITH THEM, EXCEPT BIRTH AND 

PARENTAGE, WHICH APPEARS TO BE THE ONE THING WANTING 

THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE OF THIS WORK. 

By this time we had arrived at the lime-kiln to which we had 
been directed, and we sat down on our bundles, chatting^ for 
about five minutes, when our new acquaintance made his ap- 
pearance, with something in his hand, tied up in a handker- 
chief. 

“You may as well put your coats into your bundles, and put 
on these frocks,” said he ; you will appear better among us, and 
will be better received, for there is a gathering now, and some 
of them are queer customers. However, you have nothing to 
fear ; when once you are with my wife and me, you are quite 
safe ; her little finger would protect you from five hundred.” 

“ Your wife 1 who, then, is she I” inquired I, as I put my 
head through the smock frock. 

“ She is a great personage among the gipsies. She is, by 
descent, one of the heads of the tribe, and none dare to disobey 
her.” 

“ And you — are you a gipsy ?” 

“ Xo, and yes. By birth I am not, but by choice, and mar- 
riage, I am admitted ; but I w as not born under a hedge, I can 
assure you, although I very often pass a night there now — that 
is, when I am domestic ; but do not think that you are to re- 
main long here ; we shall leave in a few days, and may not meet 
the tribe again for months, although you may see my own family 
occasionally. I did not ask you to join me to pass a gipsy’s 
life — no, no, we must be stirring and active. Come, we are now 
close to them. Do not speak as you pass the huts, until you 
have entered mine. Then you may do as you please.” 

We turned short round, passed through a gap in the hedge. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


69 


and found ourselves on a small retired piece of common, which 
was studded with about twenty or thirty low gipsy huts. The 
fires were alight and provisions apparently cooking. We passed 
by nine or ten, and obeyed our guide's injunctions to keep silence 
At last we stopped, and perceived ourselves to be standing by 
the fool, who was dressed like us, in a smock frock, and Mr 
Jumbo, who was very busy making the pot boil, blowing at the 
sticks underneath till he was black in the face. Several of the 
men passed near us, and examined us with no very pleasant ex 
pression of countenance ; and we were not sorry to see our con- 
ductor, who had gone into the hut, return, followed by a woman, 
to whom he was speaking in the language of the tribe. Nat- 
tde bids you welcome," said he, as she approached. 

Never in my life will the remembrance of the first appear- 
ance of Nattee, and the effect it had upon me, be erased from 
my memory. She was tall, too tall, had it not been for the per- 
fect symmetry of her form. Her face of a clear olive, and oval 
in shape ; her eyes jetty black ; nose straight, and beautifully 
formed ; mouth small, thin lips, with a slight curl of disdain, 
and pearly teeth. I never beheld a woman of so commanding 
a presence. Her feet were bare, but very small, as well as her 
hands. On her fingers she wore many rings, of a curious old 
setting, and a piece of gold hung on her forehead, where the hair 
was parted. She looked at us, touched her high forehead with 
the ends of her fingers, and waving her hand gracefully, said, in 
a soft voice, “You are welcome,” and then turned to her hus- 
band, speaking to him in her own language, until by degrees 
they separated from us in earnest conversation. 

She returned to us after a short time, without her husband, 
and said, in a voice, the notes of which were indeed soft, but the 
delivery of the words was most determined ; “I have said that 
you are welcome ; sit down, therefore, and share with us — fear 
nothing, you have no cause to fear. Be faithful, then, while 
you serve him ; and when you would quit us, say so, and receive 
your leave to depart ; but if you attempt to desert us without 
permission, then we shall suspect that you are our enemies, and 


60 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

treat you accordingly. There is your lodging while herc/^ con 
tinned she, pointing to another hut. “ There is but one child 
with you, his boy (pointing to Jumbo), who can lie at your feet. 
And now join us as friends. Fleta, where are you 

A soft voice answered from the tent of Nattee, and soon 
afterwards came out a little girl, of about eleven years old. 
The appearance of this child was a new source of interest. She 
was a little fairy figure, with a skin as white as the driven 
snow — light auburn hair, and large blue eyes ; her dress was 
scanty, and showed a large portion of her taper legs. She 
hastened to Kattee, and folding her arms across her breast, 
stood still, saying meekly, “ I am here.” 

“ Know these as friends, Fleta. Send that lazy Num (this 
was Philotas, the fool) for more wood, and see that Jumbo 
tends the fire.” 

Natt6e smiled, and left us. I observed she went to where 
forty or fifty of the tribe were assembled, in earnest discourse. 
She took her seat with them, and marked deference was paid 
to her. In the mean time Jumbo had blown up a brisk fire ; 
we were employed by Fleta in shredding vegetables, which she 
threw into the boiling kettle. Num appeared with more fuel, 
and at last there was nothing more to do. Fleta sat down by 
us, and parting her long hair, which had fallen over her eyes, 
looked us both in the face. 

“ Who gave you that name, Fleta ?” inquired I. 

“ They gave it me,” replied she. ^ 

“And who are they ?” 

“ Nattde, and Melchior, her husband.” 

“But you are not their daughter ?” 

“No, I am not — that is, I believe not.” 

The little girl stopped short, as if assured that she had said 
too much, cast her eyes down on the ground, and folded her 
arms, so that her hands rested on each opposite shoulder. 

Timothy whispered to me, “She must have been stolen^ 
depend upon it.” 

“ Silence,” said I 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


61 


The little girl overheard him, and looking at him, put hei 
finger across her mouth, looking to where Num and Jumbo 
were sitting. I felt an interest for this child before I had been 
an hour in her company ; she was so graceful, so feminine, so 
mournful in the expression of her countenance. That she was 
under restraint was evident ; but still she did not appear to be 
actuated by fear. Nattee was very kind to her, and the child 
did not seem to be more reserved towards her than to others ; 
her mournful, pensive look, was perhaps inherent to her nature. 
It was not until long after our first acquaintance that I ever 
saw a smile upon her features. Shortly after this little con- 
versatiou, Nattee returned, walking with all the grace and dig 
nity of a queen. Her husband, or Melchior, as I shall in future 
call him, soon joined us, and we sat down to our repast, which 
was excellent. It was composed of almost every thing ; some- 
times I found myself busy with the wing of a fowl, at another, 
the leg of a rabbit — then a piece of mutton, or other flesh and 
fowl, which I could hardly distinguish. To these were added 
every sort of vegetable, among which potatoes predominated, 
forming a sort of stew, which an epicure might have praised. I 
had a long conversation with Melchior in the evening ; and, 
not to weary the reader, I shall now proceed to state all that I 
then and subsequently gathered from him and others, relative 
to the parties with whom we were associating. 

Melchior would not state who and what he was previous to 
his having joined the fraternity of gipsies ; that he was not of 
humble birth, and that he had, when young, quitted his 
friends out of love for Nattee, or from some other causes not 
to be revealed, he led me to surmise. He had been many 
years in company with the tribe, and although, as one received 
into it, he did not stand so high in rank and estimation as his 
wife, still, from his marriage with Najttee, and his own peculiar 
qualifications and dexterity, he was almost as absolute as she 
was. 

Melchior and Hattee were supposed to be the most weaithj? 
of all the gipsies, and, at the same time, they were the most 


62 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


liberal of their wealth. Melchior, it appeared, gained moncj 
in three different characters ; as a quack doctor, the char 
acter in which we first saw him ; secondly, as a juggler, in 
which art he was most expert ; and, thirdly, as a fortune-teller, 
and wise man. 

Nattee, as I before mentioned, was of very high rank, or 
caste, in her tribe. At her first espousal of Melchior she lost 
much of her influence, as it was considered a degradation ; but 
she was then very young, and must have been most beautiful. 
The talents of Melchior, and her own spirit, however, soofi 
enabled her to regain, and even add still more to, her power 
and consideration among the tribe ; and it was incredible to 
what extent, with the means which she possessed, this power 
was augmented. 

Melchior had no children by his marriage, and, as far as I coula 
judge from the few words which would escape from the lips of 
Nattee, she did not wish for any, as the race would not be 
considered pure. The subdivision of the tribe which followed 
Nattee consisted of about forty, men, women, and children. 
These were ruled by her during the absence of her husband, 
who alternately assumed different characters, as suited his pur- 
pose ; but in whatever town Melchior might happen to be, 
Nattee and her tribe were never far off, and always encamped 
within communication. 

I ventured to question Melchior about the little Fleta ; and 
he stated that she was the child of a soldier’s wife, who had 
been brought to bed, and died a few hours afterwards ; that, 
at the time, she was on her way to join her husband, and 
had been taken ill on the road — had been assisted by Nattee 
and her companions, as far as they were able — had been 
buried by them, and that the child had been reared in the 
camp. 

In time, the little girl became very intimate, and very partial 
to me. I questioned her as to her birth, telling her what 
Melchior had stated : for a long while she would not answer ; 
the poor child had learned caution even at that early age ; but 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


63 


after we were more intimate, slie said, that which Melchior 
had stated was not true. She could recollect very well living 
in a great house, with every thing very fine about her ; but 
still it appeared as if it were a dream. She recollected two 
white ponies — and a lady who was her mamma — and a 
mulberry-tree, where she stained her frock ; sometimes other 
things came to her memory, and then she forgot them again. 
From this it was evident that she had been stolen, and was 
probably of good parentage ; certainly, if elegance and sym- 
metry of person and form could prove blood, it never was more 
marked than in this interesting child. Her abode with the 
gipsies, and their peculiar mode of life and manners, had 
rendered her astonishingly precocious in intellect ; but of 
education she had none, except what was instilled into her by 
Melchior, whom she always accompanied whfen he assumed his 
character as a juggler. She then danced on the slack wire, at 
the same time performing several feats in balancing, throwing 
of oranges, &c. When Melchior was under other disguises, she 
remained in the camp with Hattee. 

Of Num, or Philotas, as Melchior thought proper to call 
him, I have already spoken. He was a half-witted idiot, 
picked up in one of Melchior’s excursions ; and as he stated to 
me, so did it prove to be the fact, that when on the stage, and 
questioned as a fool, his natural folly, and idiotical vacancy of 
countenance, were applauded by the spectators as admirably 
assumed. Even at the alehouses and taverns where we stopped, 
every one imagined that all his folly was pretence, and looked 
upon him as a very clever fellow. There never was, perhaps, 
such a lachrymose countenance as this poor lad’s ; and this 
added still more to the mirth of others, being also considered 
as put on for the occasion. Stephen Kemble played Falstaff 
without stuffing — Num played the fool without any effort or 
preparation. Jumbo was also “picked up this was not done 
by Melchior, who stated, that any body might have him who 
claimed him ; he tumbled with the fool upon the stage, and he 
also ate pudding to amuse the spectators — the only part of the 


f>4 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

performance whicli was suited to Jumbo’s taste, for he was f 
terrible little glutton, and never lost any opportunity of eating, 
as well as of sleeping. 

And now having described all our new companions, I must 
narrate what passed between Melchior and me, the day after 
our joining the camp. He first ran through his various pro- 
fessions, pointing out to me that as juggler he required a con- 
federate, in which capacity I might be very useful, as he would 
soon instruct me in all his tricks. As a quack doctor he wanted 
the services of both Tim and myself in mixing up, making pills, 
&c., and also in assisting him in persuading the public of his 
great skill. As a fortune-teller, I should also be of great ser- 
vice, as he would explain to me hereafter. In short, he wanted 
a person of good personal appearance and education, in whom 
he might confide in every way. As to Tim, he might be made 
useful, if he chose, in various ways ; amongst others, he wished 
him to learn tumbling and playing the fool, when, at times, the 
fool was required to give a shrewd answer on any point on 
which he would wish the public to be made acquainted. I 
agreed to my own part of the performance, and then had some 
conversation with Timothy, who immediately consented to do 
his best in what was allotted as his share. Thus was the mat- 
ter quickly arranged, Melchior observing, that he had s^id 
nothing about remuneration, as I should find that trusting 
him was far preferable to stipulated wages. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


65 


CHAPTER XI. 

WHATEVER MAY BE THE OPINION OF THE READER, HE CANNOT 

ASSERT THAT WE ARE NO CONJURERS WE SUIT OUR WARES TC 

OUR CUSTOMERS, AND OUR PROFITS ARE CONSIDERABLE. 

We had been three days in the camp when the gathering was 
broken up, each gang taking their own way. What the meeting 
was about I could not exactly discover : one occasion of it was 
to make arrangements relative to the different counties in which 
the subdivisions were to sojourn during the next year, so that 
they might know where to communicate with each othei^ and, 
at the same time, not interfere by being too near ; but there 
were many other points discussed, of which, as a stranger, I 
was kept in ignorance. Melchior answered all my questions 
with apparent candour, but his habitual deceit was such, that 
v/hether he told the truth 'or not was impossible to be ascer- 
tained by his countenance. 

When the gathering dispersed we packed up, and located 
ourselves about two miles from the common, on the borders of a 
forest of oak and ash. Our food was chiefly game, for we had 
some excellent poachers among us ; and as for fish, it appeared 
to be at their command ; there was not a pond or a pit but they 
could tell in a moment if it were tenanted, and if tenanted, in 
half an hour every fish would be floating on the top of the water, 
by the throwing in of some intoxicating sort of berry ; other 
articles of food occasionally were found in the caldron ; indeed, 
it was impossible to fare better than we did, or at less 
expense. 

Our tents were generally pitched not far from a pool of 
water, and to avoid any unpleasant search, which sometimes 
would take place, every thing liable to detection was sunk 
under the water until it was required for cooking ; once in the 
pot, it was considered as safe. But with the foraging, Timothy 


66 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

and I had nothing to do ; we participated in the eating, with- 
out asking any questions as to how it was procured. 

My time was chiefly spent in company with Melchior, who 
initiated me into all the mysteries of cups and balls — -juggling 
of every description — feats with cards, and made me acquainted 
with all his apparatus for prepared tricks. For hours and 
hours was I employed by his directions in what is called “mak- 
ing the pass ” with a pack of cards, as almost all tricks on cards 
depend upon your dexterity in this manoeuvre. In about a 
month I was considered as a very fair adept ; in the mean time, 
Timothy had to undergo his career of gymnastics, and was to 
be seen all day tumbling and re-tumbling, until he could tumble 
on his feet again. Light and active, he soon became a very 
dexterous performer, and could throw a somerset either back- 
wards or forwards, walk on his hands, eat fire, pull out ribands, 
and do fifty other tricks to amuse a gaping audience. Jumbo 
also was worked hard, to bring down his fat, and never was 
allowed his dinner until he had given satisfaction to Melchior. 
Even little Fleta had to practise occasionally, as we were pre- 
paring for an expedition. Melchior, who appeared determined 
to create an effect, left us for three days, and returned with 
not only dresses for Timothy and me, but also new dresses for 
the rest of the company ; and shortly afterwards, bidding fare- 
well to Nattee and the rest of the gipsies, we all set out — that 
is, Melchior, I, Timothy, Fleta, Num, and Jumbo. Late in 

the evening we arrived at the little town of , and took up 

our quarters at a public house, with the landlord of which 
Melchior had already made arrangements. 

“Well, Timothy,” said I, as soon as we were in bed, “ how 
do you like our new life and prospects ?” 

“ I like it better than Mr. Cophagus’s rudimans, and carry- 
ing out physic, at all events. But how does your dignity like 
turning Merry Andrew, Japhet ?” 

“ To tell you the truth, I do not dislike it. There is a wild- 
ness and a devil-may-care feeling connected with it which is 
grateful to me at present. How long it may last I cannot tell; 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


67 


but for a year or two it appears to me that we may be very 
happy. At all events, we shall see the world, and have more 
than one profession to fall back upon.” 

“ That is true ; but there is one thing that annoys me, 
J aphet, which is, we may have difficulty in leaving these people 
when we wish. Besides, you forget that you are losing sight 
of the principal object you had in view, that is, of ‘ finding out 
your father.' ” 

“ I certainly never expect to find him among the gipsies,” 
replied I, “ for children are at a premium with them. They 
steal from others, and are not very likely therefore to leave 
them at the Foundling. But I do not know whether I have 
not as good a chance in our present employment as in any other. 
I have often been thinking that as fortunetellers we may get 
hold of many strange secrets ; however, we shall see. Melchior 
says, that he intends to appear in that character as soon as he 
has made a harvest in his present one.” 

“ What do you think of Melchior, now that you have been 
so much with him ?” 

“ I think him an unprincipled man, but still with many good 
qualities. He appears to have a pleasure in deceit, and to have 
waged war with the world in general. Still he is generous, 
and, to a certain degree, confiding ; kind in his disposition, and 
apparently a very good husband. There is something on his 
mind which weighs him down occasionally, and checks him in 
the height of his mirth. It comes over him like a dark cloud 
over a bright summer sun ; and he is all gloom for a few 
minutes. I do not think that he would now commit any great 
crime ; but I have a suspicion that he has done sometliing 
which is a constant cause of remorse.” 

“You are a wery good judge of character, Japhet. But 
what a dear little child is that Fleta I She may exclaim with 
you — Who is my father ?” 

“Yes, we are both in much the same predicament, and that 
it is which I believe has so much increased my attachment to 
l»er. We are brother and sister in misfortune, and a sister she 


68 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


ever shall be to me, if such is the will of Heaven. But we :iaust 
rise early to-morrow, Tim ; so good night.” 

“ Yes, to-morrow it will be juggle and tumble — eat fire — 
um — and so on, as Mr. Cophagus would have said ; so good 
night, Japhet.” 

The next morning we arrayed ourselves in our new habili- 
ments ; mine were silk stockings, shoes, and white kerseymere 
knee’d breeches, a blue silk waistcoat loaded with tinsel, and a 
short jacket to correspond of blue velvet, a sash round my waist, 
a hat and a plume of feathers. Timothy declared I looked 
very handsome, and as the glass said the same as plain as it 
could speak, I believed him. Timothy^s dress was a pair of 
wide Turkish trowsers and red jacket, with spangles. The 
others were much the same. Fleta was attired in small, white 
satin, Turkish trowsers, blue muslin and silver embroidered 
frock, worked sandals, and her hair braided and plaited in long 
tails behind, and she looked like a little sylph. Melchior’s 
dress was precisely the same as mine, and a more respectable 
company was seldom seen. Some musicians had been hired, 
and handbills were now circulated all over the town stating 
that Signor Eugenio Yelotti, with his company, wonld have the 
honour of performing before the nobility and gentry. The bill 
contained the fare which was to be provided, and intimated 
the hour of the performance, and the prices to be paid for the 
seats. The performance was to take place in a very large 
room attached to the inn, which, previous to the decadence of 
the town, had been used as an assembly-room. A platform was 
erected on the outside, on which were placed the musicians, and 
where we all occasionally made our appearance in our splendid 
dresses to attract the wonder of the people. There we strutted 
up and down, all but poor little Fleta, who appeared to shrink 
at the display from intuitive modesty. When the music ceased, 
a smart parley between Melchior and me, and Philotas and 
Timothy, as the two fools, would take place ; and Melchior 
declared, after the performance was over, that we conducted 
mrselves to admiration. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 69 

% 

“ Pray, Mr. Philotas, do me the favour to tell me how many 
people you think are now present V’ said Melchior to Num, in 
an imperative voice. 

“ I don’t know,” said Num, looking up with his idiotical, 
melancholy face. 

“ Ha I ha I ha !” roared the crowd at ISTum’s stupid an- 
swer. 

“ The fellow’s a fool I” said Melchior, to the gaping au- 
dience. 

“ Well, then, if he can’t tell, perhaps you may, Mr. Diony- 
sius,” said I, addressing Tim. 

“How many, sir? Ho you want to know exactly and 
directly ?” 

^^Yes, sir, immediately.” 

“ Without counting, sir ?” 

“ Yes,, sir, without counting.” 

“Well, then, sir, I will tell, and make no mistake ; there’s ‘ 
exactly as many again as halfP 

“ Ha I ha I ha !” from the crowd. 

“ That won’t do, sir. How many may be the half?” 

“ How many may be the half ? Do you know yourself, sir ?” 

“ Yes, sir, to be sure I do.” 

“ Then there’s no occasion for me to tell you.” 

“ Ha ! ha I ha !” 

“Well, then, sir,” continued Melchior to Philotas, “perhaps 
fou’ll tell how many ladies and gentlemen we may expect to 
honour us with their company to-night.” 

“ How many, sir.” 

“Yes, sir, how many.” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” said Num, after a pause. 

“ Positively you are the greatest fool I ever met with,” said 
Melchior. 

“Well, he does act the fool as natural as life,” observed the 
crowd. “ What a stupid face he does put on I” 

“Perhaps you will be able to answer that question, Mr. 
Dionysius,” said I to Tim. 


70 


/APHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


Yes, sir, I know exactly.” 

“Well, sir, let’s hear. 

“In the first place, all the pretty women will come, and all 
the ugly ones stay away ; and as for the men, all those who 
have got . any money will be certain to come ; those who 
hav’n’t, poor devils, must stay outside.” 

“ Suppose, sir, you make a bow to the ladies.” 

“ A very low one, sir ?” 

“ Yes, very low indeed.” 

Tim bent his body to the ground, and threw a somerset 
forward. “ There, sir ; I bowed so low, that I came up on the 
other side.” 

“ Ha ! ha I capital I” from the crowd. 

“I’ve got a round turn in my back, sir,” continued Tim, 
rubbing himself. “ Hadn’t I better take it out ag:iin ?” 

“ By all means.” 

Tim threw a somerset backwards. “ There, sir, all’s right 
now. One good turn deserves another. Now, I’ll be off.” 

“ Where are you going to, sir ?”' 

“ Going sir I Why, I left my lollipop in the tinder-box, and 
I’m going to fetch it.” 

“ Ha I ha 1 ha 1” 

“ Strike up, music I” and Master Jumbo commenced tumb- 
ling. 

Such was the elegant wit with which we amused and at- 
tracted the audience. Perhaps, had we been more refined, wc 
should not have been so successful. 

That evening we had the room as full as it could hold. 
Signor Velotti, alias Melchior, astonished them. The cards 
appeared to obey his commands — wrings were discovered in 
lady’s shoes — watches were beat to a powder and made whole 
— canary birds flew out of eggs. The audience were delighted. 
The entertainment closed with Pleta’s performance on the 
slack wire ; and certainly never was there any thing more 
beautiful and graceful. Balanced on the wire in a continual, 
waving motion, her eyes fixed upon a point to enable her to 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 11 

maintain her position, she performed several feats, such as the 
olaying v^ith five oranges, balancing swords, &c. Her extreme 
beauty — her very picturesque and becoming dress — her mourn- 
ful exj)ression and down-cast eyes, — her gentle manner, ap- 
peared to win the hearts of the audience ; and when she 
was assisted off from her perilous situation by Melchior and 
me, and made her graceful courtesy, the plaudits were unani- 
mous. 

When the company dispersed I went to her, intending to 
praise her, but I found her in tears. “ What is the matter, 
my dear Fleta ?” 

“ 0 nothing I don’t say I have been crying — ^but I cannot 
bear it — so many people looking at me. Don’t say a word to 
Melchior — I won’t cry any more.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

IT IS VERY EASY TO HUMBUG THOSE WHO ARE SO EAGER TO BE HUM 

BUGGED AS PEOPLE ARE IN THIS WORLD OP HUMBUG WE SHOW 

OURSELVES EXCESSIVELY DISINTERESTED, WHICH ASTONISHES 
EVERYBODY, 

I KISSED and consoled her; she threw her arm round my neck, 
and remained there with her face hid for some time. We then 
joined the others at supper. Melchior was much pleased with 
our success, and highly praised the conduct of Timothy and 
myself, -which he pronounced was, for the first attempt, far be- 
yond his expectations. 

We continued to astonish all the good people of foi 

five days, when we discovered the indubitable fact, that there 
was no more money to be extracted from their pockets, upon 
which we resumed our usual clothes and smock frocks, and with 
our bundles in our hands, set off for another market town, 
about fifteen miles distant. There we were equally successful, 


'Z2 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

and Melchoir was delighted with our having proved such a 
powerful acquisition to his troop; but not to dwell too long 
upon one subject, I shall inform the reader that, after a trip of 
six wteks, during which we were very well received, we once 
more returned to the camp, which had located within five miles 
of our last scene of action. Every one was content — we were 
all glad to get back and rest from our labours. Melchior was 
pleased with his profits, poor little Fleta overjoyed to be once 
more in the seclusion of her tent, and Nattee very glad to hear 
of our good fortune, and to see her husband. Timothy and I 
had already proved ourselves so useful, that Melchior treated 
us with the greatest friendship and confidence — and he made us 
a present out of the gains, for our exertions; to me he gave ten, 
and to Timothy five, pounds. 

“ There, Japhet, had you hired yourself I should not have 
paid you more than seven shillings per week, finding you in 
food; but you must acknowledge that for six weeks that is not 
bad pay. However, your earnings will depend upon our suc- 
cess, and I rather think that we shall make a much better thing 
of it when next we start, which will be in about a fortnight; 
but we have some arrangements to make. Has Timothy a good 
memory ?” 

“ I think he has.” 

“ That is well. I told you before that we are to try the 
* Wise Man,^ — ^but first we must have Nattee in play. To- 
morrow we will start for ,” mentioning a small quiet town 

about four miles off. 

We did so, early the next morning, and arrived about noon, 
pitching our tents on the common, not far from the town; but 
m this instance we left all the rest of our gang behind. Mel- 
chior’s own party and his two tents were all that were brought 
by the donkeys. 

Melchior and I, dressed as countrymen, went into the town 
at dusk, and entered a respectable sort of inn, taking our seats 
at one of the tables in the tap-room, and, as we had already 
planned, after we had called for beer, commenced a conversa- 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 73 

tion ia tlie hearing of the others who were sitting drinking and 
smoking. 

‘^Well, I never will believe it — it’s all cheat and trickery,” 
said Melchior, “ and they only do it to pick your pocket. Tell 
your fortune, indeed I I suppose she promised you a rich wife 
and half-a-dozen children.” 

“ No, she did not,” replied I, “ for I am too young to marry; 
but she told me what I know has happened.” 

“ Well, what was that ?” 

“Why, she told me that my mother had married again, and 
turned me out of doors to work for my bread.” 

“ But she might have heard that.” 

“ How could she ? No, that’s not possible; but she told me 
I had a mole on my knee, which was a sign of luck. Now how 
could she know that ?” 

“ Well, I grant that was odd — and pray what else did she 
promise you ?” 

“ Why, she said that I should meet with my dearest friend 
to-night. Now that does puzzle me, for I have but one in the 
world, and he is a long way off.” 

“Well, if you do meet your friend, then I’ll believe her; but 
if not, it has been all guess work; and pray what did you 
pay for all this — was it a shilling, or did she pick your 
pocket ?” 

“ That’s what puzzles me — she refused to take anything. I 
offered it again and again, and she said, ‘^To; that she would 
have no money — that her gift was not to be sold.’ ” 

“ Well, that is odd. Do you hear what this young man 
says,” said Melchior, addressing the others, who had swallowed 
every word. 

“ Yes,” replied one; “ but who is this person ?” 

“ The queen of the gipsies, I am told. I never saw such a 
wonderful woman in my life — ^lier eyes go right through you. 
T met her on the common, and, as she passed, she dropped a 
handkerchief. I ran back to give it her, and then she thanked 
me and said, ‘ Open your hand and let me see the palm. Here 

4 


'14 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

are great lines, and you will be fortunate and then she told me 
a great deal more, and bid God bless me.” 

“ Then if she said that, she cannot haye dealings with the 
devil,” observed. Melchior. 

“ Yery odd — very strange — take no money — queen of the 
gipsies,” was echoed from all sides. 

The landlady and the bar-maid listened with wonder, when 
who should come in, as previously agreed, but Timothy. I 
pretended not to see him; but He came up to me, seizing me by 
the hand, and shaking it with apparent delight, and crying, 
Wilson, have you forgot Smith ?” 

“ Smith I” cried I, looking earnestly in his face. “ Why so 
it is. How came you here ?” 

“I left Dublin three days ago,” replied he; “but how I 
came here into this house, is one of the strangest things that 
ever occurred. I was walking over the common, when a tall 
handsome woman looked at me, and said, ‘ Young man, if you 
will go into the third public-house you pass, you will meet an 
old friend, who expects you.^ I thought she was laughing at 
me; but as it mattered very little in which house I passed the 
night, I thought for the fun of the thing I might as well take 
her advice.” 

“ How strange I” cried Melchior, “ and she told him the 
same — that is, he would meet a friend.” 

“ Strange — ^very strange — ^wonderful — astonishing I” was 
echoed from all quarters, and the fame of the gipsy was already 
established. 

Timothy and I sat down together, conversing as old friends, 
and Melchior went about from one to the other, narrating the 
wonderful occurrence till past midnight, when we all three took 
beds at the inn, as if we were travellers. 

The report which we had circulated that evening induced 
many people to go out to see Yattee, who appeared to take no 
notice of them; and when asked to tell fortunes, waved them 
away with her hand. ' But, although this plan of Melchior’s 
was, for the first two or three days, very expedient, yet, as it 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 15 

was not intended to last, Timothy, who remained with me at 
the inn, became very intimate with the bar-maid, and obtained 
from her most of the particulars of her life. I, also, from re- 
peated conversations with the landlady, received information 
very important, relative to herself and many of the families in 
the town; but as the employment of Nattee was for an ulterior 
object, w'e contented ourselves with gaining all the information 
we could before we proceeded further. After we had been there 
a week, and the fame of the gipsy woman had been marvel- 
lously increased — many things having been asserted of her 
which were indeed truly improbable — Melchior agreed that 
Timothy should persuade the bar-maid to try if the gipsy wo- 
man "would tell her fortune : The girl, with some trepidation, 
agreed, but at the same time expecting to be refused, consented 
to walk with him over the common. Timothy advised her to 
pretend to pick up a sixpence when near to Nattee, and ask 
her if it did not belong to her^ and the bar-maid acted upon 
his suggestions, having just before that quitted the arm of 
Timothy, who had conducted her. 

“ Did you drop a sixpence ? I have picked up one,” said the 
girl, trembling with fear as she addressed Nattde. 

Child,” replied Nattee, who was prepared, “ I have neither 
dropped a sixpence nor have you found one — but never mind 
that, I know that which you wish, and I know who you are. 
Now what would you with me ? Is it to inquire whether the 
landlord and landlady of the Golden Lion intend to keep you in 
their service ?” 

“ No,” replied the girl, frightened at what she heard ; “ not 
to inquire that, but to ask what my fortune will be ?” 

“ Open your palm, pretty maid, and I will tell you. Ilah I 
I see that you were born in the West — your father is dead — 
your mother is in service — and let me sec, — you have a brother 
at sea — now in the West Indies.” 

At this intelligence, all of which,- as may be supposed, had 
been gathered by us, the poor girl was so frightened that she 
fell down in a swoon, and Timothy carried her off. When she 


76 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


was taken home to the inn, she was so ill that she was put into 
bed, and what she did say was so incoherent, that, added to 
Timothy’s narrative, the astonishment of the landlady and 
others was beyond all bounds. I tried very hard to bring the 
landlady, but she would not consent ; and now Nattee "was 
pestered by people of higher condition, who wished to hear 
what she would say. Here Nattee’s powers were brought into 
play. She would not refuse to see them, but would not give 
answers till she had asked questions, and, as from us she had 
gleaned much general information, so by making this knowledge 
appear in her questions to them, she made them believe she 
knew more. If a young person came to her, she would 
immediately ask the name — of that name she had all the 
references acquired from us as to family and connexions. Bear- 
ing upon them, she would ask a few more, and then give them 
an abrupt dismissal. 

This behaviour was put up with from one of her commanding 
presence, who refused money, and treated those who accosted 
her as if she was their superior. Many -came again and again, 
telling her all they knew, and acquainting her with every trans- 
action of their life, to induce her to prophesy, for such, she 
informed them, was the surest way to call the spirit upon her. 
By these means we obtained the secret history of the major 

part, that is, the wealthier part of the town of ; and 

although the predictions of Nattee were seldom given, yet w^hen 
given, they were given with such perfect and apparent know- 
ledge of the parties, that when she left, which she did about six 
weeks after her first appearance, the whole town rang with 
accounts of her wonderful powers. 

It will appear strange that Melchior would not permit 
Nattee to reap a harvest, which might have been great ; but 
the fact was that he only allowed the seed to be sown that 
a greater harvest might be gathered hereafter. Nattee disaj)- 
pcared, the gipsies’ tent was no longer on the common, and the 
grass, which had been beaten down into a road by the feet 
of the frequent applicants to her, Was again permitted to 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


71 


spring np. We also took our departure, and rejoined the 
camp with Nattee, where we remained for a fortnight, to 
permit the remembrance of her to subside a little — knowing 
that tUe appetite was alive, and would not be satisfied until it 
was appeased. 

After that time Melchior, Timothy, and I, again set off 

for the town of , and stopping at a superior inn in 

another part of the town, dressed as travellers, that is, people 
who go about the country for orders from the manufacturers, 
ordered our beds and supper in the coffee-room. The conversa- 
tion was soon turned upon the wonderful powers of Nattee, the 
gipsy. ‘‘Nonsense,” said Melchior, “she knows nothing. I 
have heard of her. But there is a man coming this way (should 
he happen to pass through this town) who will surprise and 
frighten you. No one knows who he is. He is named the 
Great Aristodemus. He knows the past, the present, and the 
future. * He never looks at people^s hands — he only looks you 
in the face, and woe he to them who tell him a lie. Otherwise, he 
is good tempered and obliging, and will tell what will come to 
pass, and his predictions never have been known to fail. They 
say that he is hundreds of years old, and his l air is white as 
silver.” At this information many expressed thoir doubts, and 
many others vaunted the powers of the gipsy. Melchior replied, 
“ that all he knew was, that for the sum of two guineas paid 
down, he had told him of a legacy left him of six hundred 
pounds, which otherwise he would never have known of or 
received.” All the town of being quite alive for for- 

tune-telling, this new report gained wind, and after a week^s 
sojourn, Melchior thought that the attempt should be made. 


78 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 




CHAPTER XIII. 

THE SEED HAYING BEEN CAREFULLY SOWN, WE NOW REAP A GOLDEh 

HARVEST WE TELL EVERY BODY WHAT THEY KNEW BEFORE, AND 

WE ARE LOOKED UPON AS MOST MARVELLOUS BY MOST MARVELLOUS 
FOOLS. 

We accordingly packed up and departed to another market 
town. Timothy dressed in a sombre suit of black, very much 
like an undertaker, was provided with a horse, with the follow- 
ing directions : to proceed leisurely until he "was -within half a 

mile of the town of , and then to gallop in as fast as he 

could, stop at the best inn in the place, and order apartments 
for the Great Aristodemus, who might be expected in half an 
hour. Every thing in this world depends upon appearances, 
that is, when you intend to gull it ; and as every one In the 
town had heard of the Great Aristodemus, so every one was 
anxious to know something about him, and Timothy was pes- 
tered with all manner of questions ; but he declared that he 
was only his courier, and could only tell what other people said ; 
but then what other people said, by Timothy’s account, was 
very marvellous indeed. Timothy had hardly time to secure 
the best rooms in the hotel, when Melchior, dressed in a long 
flowing silk gown, with a wig of long white hair, a square cap, 
and two or three gold chains hanging from his neck, certainly 
most admirably disguised, and attended by me in the dress of a 
German student, a wig of long brown locks hanging down my 
shoulders, made our appearance in a post chaise and four, and 
drove up to the door of the inn, at a pace which shook every 
house in the street, and occasioned every window to be tenanted 
with one or more heads to ascertain the cause of this unusual 
occurrence, for it was not a very great town, although once oi 
importance ; but the manufactures had been removed, and it 
was occupied by those who had become independent by their 
own exertions, or by those of their forefathers. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

The door of the chaise was opened by the obsequious Tim* 
othy, who pushed away th5 ostlers and waiters, as if unworthy 
to approach his master, and the Great Aristodemus made his 
appearance. As he ascended the steps of the door, his pas- 
sage was for a moment barred by one whose profession Mel- 
chior well knew. “ Stand aside, exciseman I” said he, in a 
commanding voice. “ No one crosses my path with impunity.” 
Astonished at hearing his profession thus mentioned, the excise- 
man, who was the greatest bully in the town, slipped on one 
side with consternation, and all those present lifted up their 
eyes and hands with astonishment. The Great Aristodemus 
gained his room, and shut his door ; and I went out to pay for 
the chaise and order supper, while Timothy and the porters 
were busy with our luggage, which was very considerable. 

My master will not see any one,” said I to the landlord : 

he quits this town to-morrow, if the letters arrive which he 
expects by the post ; therefore, pray get rid of this crowd, and 
let him be quiet, for he is very tired, having travelled one hun- 
red and fifty miles since the dawn of day.” 

When Tim and I had performed this duty, we joined Mel- 
chior in his room, leaving the news to be circulated. “This 
promises well,” observed Melchior ; “ up to the present we 
have expended much time and money ; now we must see if we 
cannot recover it tenfold. Japhet, you must take an opportu- 
nity of going out again after supper, and make enquiries of the 
landlord what poor people they have in the town, as I am very 
generous, and like to relieve them ; you may observe, that all 
the money offered to me for practising my art, I give away to 
the poor, having no occasion for it.” This I did, and we then 
sat down to supper, and having unpacked our baggage, went to 
bed, after looking the door of the room, and taking out the 
key. 

The next morning we had every thing in readiness, and as 
the letters, as the reader may suppose, did not arrive by the 
post, we v/ere obliged to remain, and the landlord ventured tc 
liint to me, tliat several people were anxious to consult my mas 


80 


JAPHET, m SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


ter. I replied, that I would speak to him, but it was necessarj 
to caution those who came, that they must either offer gold — 
or nothing at all. I brought his consent to see one or two, but 
no more. Now, although we had various apparatus to use, 
Avhen required, it was thought that the effect would be greater, 
if, in the first instance, every thing was simple. Melchior, there- 
fore, remained sitting at the table, which was covered with 
a black cloth, worked with curious devices, and a book of hiero- 
glyphics before him, and an ivory wand, tipped with gold, lyii^g 
by the book. Timothy standing at the door, with a short Ko- 
man sword buckled round his belt, and I, in a respectful atti- 
tude, behkid the Great Aristodemus. 

The first person who was admitted was the lady of the 
mayor of the town ; nothing could be more fortunate, as we 
had every information relative to her and her spouse, for people 
in high places are always talked of. Aristodemus waved his 
hand, and I brought forward a chair in silence, and motioned that 
she should be seated. Aristodemus looked her in her face, and 
then turned over several leaves, until he fixed upon a page, 

which he considered attentively. Mayoress of , what 

wouldst thou with me V’ 

She started, and turned pale. “ I would ask 

“ I know ; thou wouldst ask many things, perhaps, had I 
time to listen. Amongst others thou wouldst ask if there is 
any chance of thy giving an heir to thy husband. Is it 
not so 

“ Yes, it is,” replied the lady, fetching her breath. 

“So do I perceive by this book ; but let me put one ques- 
tion to thee. Wouldst thou have blessings showered on thee, 
yet 4o no good ? Thou art wealthy — yet what dost tljou and 
thy husband do with these riches ? Are ye liberal I No. Give, 
and it shall be given. I have said.” 

Aristodemus waved his hand, and the lady rose to with- 
draw. A guinea was in her fingers, and her purse in her hand; 
she took out four more, and added them to the other, and laid 
them on the table. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


81 


“ ’Tis well, lady ; charity shall plead for thee. Artolphe, let 
that money be distributed among the poor.” 

I bowed in silence, and the lady retired. 

“ Who will say that I do no good,” observed Melchior, smil 
ing, as soon as she was gone. “ Her avarice and that of hei 
husband are as notorious as their anxiety for children. Now, if 

persuade them to be liberal, I do service.” 

“ But you have given her hopes.” 

“ I have, and the very hope will do more to further theii 
wishes than any thing else. It is despair which too often pre- 
vents those who have no children from having any. How often 
do you see a couple, who, after years waiting for children, have 
at last given up their hope, and resigned themselves to the dis- 
pensations of Providence, and then, when their anxiety has sub- 
sided, have obtained a family ? Japhet, I am a shrewd observer 
of human nature.” 

“ That I believe,” replied I ; “ but I do not believe your last 
remark to be correct — but Timothy raps at the door.” 

Another lady entered the room, and then started back, as if 
she would retreat, so surprised was she at the appearance of 
the Great Aristodemus ; but as Timothy had turned the key, 
her escape was impossible. She was unknown to us, which was 
rather awkward ; but Melchior raised his eyes from his book, 
and waved his hand as before, that she should be seated. With 
some trepidation she stated, that she w^as a widow, whose 
dependence was upon an only son now at sea ; that she had not 
heard of him for a long while, and was afraid that some acci- 
dent had happened ; that she was in the greatest distress — 

and,” continued she, “ I have nothing to offer but this ring. 
Can you tell me if he is yet alive?” cried she, bursting 
into tears ; “ but if you have not the art you pretend 
to, 0 do not rob a poor, friendless creature, but let me 
depart I” 

“ When did you receive your last letter from him ?” said 
Melchior. 

" It is now seven months — dated from Bahia,” replied she, 

4 '^' 


B2 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

pulling it out of her reticule, and covering her face with hei 
handkerchief. 

Melchior caught the address, and then turned the letter over 
on the other side, as it lay on the table. “ Mrs. Watson,” 
said he. 

“ Heavens I do you know my name ?” cried the woman. 

“ Mrs. Watson, I do not require to read your sou^s letter — 
I know its contents.” He then turned over his book, and 
studied for a few seconds. “ Your son is alive.” 

“ Thank God I” cried she, clasping her hands, and dropping 
her reticule. 

“ But you must not expect his return too soon — he is well 
employed.” 

“ Oh I I care not — ^he is alive — he is alive ! God bless you 
— God bless you 1” 

Melchoir made a sign to me, pointing to the five guineas and 
the reticule ; and I contrived to slip them into her reticule, 
while she sobbed in her handkerchief. 

“ Enough, Madam ; you must go, for others require my 
aid.” 

The poor woman rose, and offered the ring. 

“ Nay, nay, I want not thy money ; I take , from the rich, 
that I may distribute to the poor — but not from the widow in 
affliction. Open thy bag.” The widow took up her bag, and 
opened it. Melchior dropped in the ring, taking his wand from 
the table, waved it, and touched the bag. ‘‘As thou art 
honest, so may thy present wants be relieve4. Seek, and thou 
shalt find.” 

The widow left the room with tears of gratitude ; and I 
must say, that I was affected with the same. When she had 
gone, I observed to Melchior, that up to the present he had 
toiled for nothing. 

“ Very true, Japhet ; but depend upon it, if I assisted that 
poor woman from no other feelings than interested motives, I 
did well ; but I tell thee candidly, I did it from compassion. 
We are odd mixtures of good and evil. I wage war with fools 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


83 


and knaves, but not with all the world. I gave that money 
freely — she required it ; and it may be put as a set-oflf against 
my usual system of fraud, or it may not — at all events, I 
pleased myself.” 

“But you told her that her son was alive.” 

“ Very true, and he may be dead ; but is it not well to com- 
fort her — even for a short time to relieve that suspense which 
is worse than the actual knowledge of his death ? Sufficient 
for the day is the evil thereof.” 

It would almost have appeared that this good action of 
Melchior met with its reward, for the astonishment of the 
widow at finding the gold in her reticule— her narrative of 
what passed, and her assertion (which she firmly believed to be 
true), that she had never left her reticule out of her hand, and 
that Melchior had only touched it with his wand, raised his 
reputation to that degree, that nothing else was talked about 
throughout the town, and to crown all, the next day’s post 
brought her a letter and remittances from her son ; and the 
grateful woman returned, and laid ten guineas on the black 
cloth, showering a thousand blessings upon Melchior, and almost 
worshipped him as a supernatural being. This was a most for- 
tunate occurrence, and as Melchior prophesied, the harvest did 
now commence. In four days we had received upwards of 
£200, and we then thought it time that we should depart. 
The letters arrived, which were expected ; and when we set on 
in a chaise and four, the crowd to see us was so great, that it 
was with difficulty we could pass through it 


84 


JAPliET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


CHAPTER XIY. 

iN WHICH ilELCHlOR TALAa VERY MUCH LIKE AN ASTROLOGER, AND 

TIM AND I RETURN TO OUR OLD TRADE OF MAKING UP INNOCENT 

PRESCRIPTIONS. 

AYe had taken our horses for the next town * but as soon as 
we were fairly on the road, I stopped the boys, and told them 
that the Great Aristodemus intended to observe the planets 
and stars that night, and that they were to proceed to a com- 
mon w’hich I mentioned. The post-boys, who were well aware 
of his fame, and as fully persuaded of it as every body else, 
drove to the cominon j we descended, took off the luggage, and 
received directions from Melchior in their presence about the 
instruments, to which the boys listened with open mouths and 
wonderment. I paid them well, and told them they might 
return, which they appeared very glad to do. They reported 
what had occurred, and this simple method of regaining our 

camp, added to the astonishment of the good town of . 

When they were out of sight, we resumed our usual clothes, 
packed all up, carried away most of our effects, and hid the 
others in the furze to be sent for the next night, not being more 
than two miles from the camp. We soon arrived, and were 
joyfully received by Fleta and Xattee. 

As we walked across the common, I observed to Melchior, 
I wonder if these stars have any influence upon mortals, as it 
was formerly supposed ?” 

“ Most assuredly they have,” rejoined Melchior. “ I cannot 
read them, but I firmly believe in them.” 

I made the above remark, as I had often thought that such 
was Melchior’s idea. 

“ Yes,” continued he, “ every man has his destiny— such 
must be the case. It is known beforehand what is to happen 
to us by an Omniscient Being, and being known, what is it but 
destiny which cannot be changed ? It is continued he, 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


85 


surveying the stars with his hand raised up, “ and that fate is 
as surely written there as the sun shines upon us ; hut 
the great book is sealed, because it would not add to our 
happiness.” 

“ If, then, all is destiny, or fate, what inducement is there to 
do well or ill ?” replied I. “ We may commit all acts of evil, 
and say, that as it was predestined, we could not help it. 
Besides, would it be just that the Omniscient Being should ^ 
punish us for those crimes which we cannot prevent, and which 
are allotted to us by destiny ?” 

Japhet, you argue well ; but you are in error, because, like 
most of those of the Christian church, you understand not the 
sacred writings, nor did I until I knew my wife. Her creed is, 

I believe, correct j and what is more, adds weight to the truths 
of the Bible.” 

“ I thought that gipsies had no religion.” 

‘‘You are not the only one who supposes so. It is true that 
the majority of the tribe are held by the higher castes as serfs, 
and are not instructed ; but with — if I may use the expression 
— the aristocracy of them, it is very different, and their creed I 
have adopted.” 

“ I should wish to hear their creed,” replied I. 

“Hear it then. Original sin commenced in heaven — when 
the angels rebelled against their God — not on earth.” 

“ I will grant that sin originated first in heaven.” 

“ Bo you think that a great, a good God ever created anj 
being for its destruction and eternal misery, much less an 
angel ? Bid he not foresee their rebellion ?” 

“ I grant it.” 

“ This world was not peopled with the image of God until 
after the fall of the angels : it had its living beings, its mon- 
sters perhaps, but not a race of men with eternal souls. But it 
was peopled, as we see it now is, to enable the legions of 
angels who fell to return to their former happy state— as a pil- 
grimage by which they might obtain their pardons, and resume 
their seats in heaven. Not a child is born, but the soul of sr me 


86 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

fallen chernb eaters into the body to work out its salvation 
Many do, many do not, and then they have their task tc 
recommence anew ; for the spirit once created is immortal, 
and cannot be destroyed ; and the Almighty is all goodness, 
and would ever pardon.” 

“ Then you suppose there is no such thing as eternal punish- 
ment ?” 

“ Eternal ! — no. Punishment there is, but not eternal. 
When the legions of angels fell, some were not so perverse as 
others : they soon re-obtained their seats, even when, as chil- 
dren, having passed through the slight ordeal, they have been 
summoned back to heaven ; but others who, from their infancy, 
show how bad were their natures, have many pilgrimages to 
perform before they can be purified. This is, in itself, a punish- 
ment. What other punishment they incur between their pil- 
grimages we know not ; but this is certain, that no one was 
created to be punished eternally.” 

“.But all this is but assertion,” replied I ; “ where are your 
proofs ?” 

“ In the Bible ; some day or other I will show them t5 you ; 
but now we are at the camp, and I am anxious to embrace 
Nattee.” 

I thought for some time upon this singular creed ; one, in 
itself, not militating against religion, but at the same time I 
could not call to mind any passages by which it could be sup- 
ported. Still the idea was beautiful, and I dwelt upon it with 
pleasure. I have before observed, and indeed the reader must 
have gathered from my narrative, that Melchior was no common 
personage. Every day did I become more partial to him, and 
more pleased with our erratic life. What scruples I had at first, 
gradually wore away ; the time passed quickly, and although I 
would occasionally call to mind the original object of my setting 
forth, I would satisfy myself by the reflection, that there wa'i 
yet sufficient time. Little Fleta was now my constant compa- 
nion when in the camp, and I amused myself with teaching her 
to write and read. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


81 


“ Japliet,” said Timothy to me one .day as we were cutting 
hazel broach wood in the forest, “ I don’t see that you get on 
very fast in your search after your father.” 

“No, Tim, I do not ; but I am gaining a knowledge of the 
world which vfill be very useful to me when I recommence the 
search ; and what is more, I am saving a great deal of money 
to enable me to prosecute it.” 

“ What did Melchior give you after we left ?” 

“ Twenty guineas, which, with what I had before, make more 
than fifty.” 

“ And he gave me ten, which makes twenty, witli what I had 
before. Seventy pounds is a large sum.” 

“ Yes, but soon spent, Tim. We must work a little longer. 
Besides, I cannot leave that little girl — she was never intended 
for a rope-dancer.” 

“ I am glad to hear you say that, Japhet, for I feel as you 
do — she shall share our fortunes.” 

“ A glorious prospect, truly,” replied I, laughing ; “ but 
never mind, it would be better than her remaining here. But 
how are' we to manage that ?” 

“ Ay I that’s the rub ; but there is time enough to think 
about it when we intend to quit our present occupation.” 

“Well, I understand from Melchior that we are to start in a 
few days ?” 

“ What is it to be, Japhet ?” 

“ Oh I we shall be at home — we are to cure all diseases under 
tlie §|in. To-morrow we commence making pills, so we may 
think ourselves with Mr. Cophagus again.” 

“ Well, I do think we shall have some fun ; but I hope Mel- 
cliiar won’t make me take my own pills to prove their good 
qualities — that will be no joke.” * 

“ 0 no, Num is kept on purpose for that. What else is the 
fool good for ?” 

The next week was employed as we anticipated. Boxes of 
pills of every size, neatly labelled, bottles of various mixtures, 
chiefiy stimulants, were corked and packed up. Powders of an% 


88 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

thin^ were put in papersj but, at all events, there was nothing 
hurtful in them. All "was ready, and accompanied by Num 
(Jumbo and Fleta being left at home) we set off, Melchior 
assuming the dress in which we had first met him in the waggon, 
and altering his appearance so completely, that he would have 
been taken for at least sixty years old. We now travelled on 
foot with our dresses in bundles, each carrying his own, except 
Num, who was loaded like a pack-horse, and made sore lamen 
tations : “ Can’t you carry some of this ?” 

‘‘No,” replied I, “it is your own luggage ; every one must 
carry his own.’b 

“Well, I never felt my spangled dress so heavy before. 
Where are we going ?” 

“ Only a little way,” replied Timothy, “ and then you will 
have nothing more to do.” 

“ I don’t know that. When master puts on that dress, I 
have to swallow little things till I’m sick.” 

“ It’s all good for your health, Num.” 

“ I’m very well, I thank’e,” replied the poor fellow ; “ but 
I’m very hot and very tired.” 


CHAPTERXV. 

IN WHICH TIMOTHY MAKES A GRAND SPEECH, QUITE AS TRUE AS THOSE 

DELIVERED FROM THE HUSTINGS MELCHOIR, LIKE THE CANDIDATE, 

STATES HIS PRETENSIONS FOR PUBLIC FAVOUR, AND THE PUBLIC, AS 
USUAL, SWALLOW THE BAIT. 

Fortunately for poor Num, we were not far from the mar- 
ket town at which we intended to open our campaign, which 
we did the next morning by Num and Timothy sallying forth, 
the former with a large trumpet in his hand, -and the latter rid- 
ing on a donkey. On their arrival at the market-place, Num 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


89 


commenced blowing it with all his might, while Timothy, in his 
spangled dress, as soon as they had collected a crowd, stood 
upon his saddle, and harangued the people as follows : — 

Gentlemen and ladies — I have the honour to announce to 
you the arrival in this town of the celebrated Doctor Appalla- 
cheosmocommetico, who has travelled farther than the sun and 
faster than a comet. He hath visited every part of the globe. 
He has smoked the calumet with the Indians of North America 
— he has hunted with the Araucas- in the South — galloped on 
wild horses over the plains of Mexico, and rubbed noses with 
the Esquimaux. He hath used the chopsticks with the Chinese, 
swung the Cherok pooga with the Hindoos, and put a new nose 
on the Great Cham of Tartary. He hath visited and been re- 
ceived in every court of Europe : danced on the ice of the Neva 
with the Russians — ^led the mazurka with the Poles — waltzed 
with the Germans — tarantulaed with the Italians — fandangoed 
with the Spanish — and quadrilled with the French. He hath 
explored every mine in the universe, walked through every town 
on the Continent, examined every mountain in the world, as- 
cended Mont Blanc, walked down the Andes, and run up the 
Pyrenees. He has been into every volcano on the globe, and 
descending by Yesuvius has been thrown up by Stromboli. He 
has lived more than a thousand years, and is still in the flower 
of his youth. He has had one hundred and forty sets of teeth, 
one after another, and expects a new set next Christmas. His 
whole life has been spent in the service of mankind, and in do- 
ing good to his fellow-creatures ; and having the experience of 
more than a thousand years, he cures more than a thousand 
diseases. Gentlemen, the wonderful doctor will present himself 
before you this evening, and will then tell what his remedies 
are good for, so that you may pick and choose according to 
your several complaints. Ladies, the wonderful doctor can 
greatly assist you ; he has secrets by which you may have a 
family if you should so wish — philters to make husbands con- 
stant, and salve to make them blind — cosmetics to remove pim- 
ples and restore to youth and beauty, and powders to keep chil- 


90 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


dren from squalling. Sound the trumpet, Philotas : sound, and 
let every body know that the wonderful Doctor Appallacheos- 
mocommetico has vouchsafed to stop here, and confer his bless* 
ings upon the inhabitants of this town.” Hereupon Num again 
blew the trumpet till he was black in the face ; and Timothy, 
dropping on his donkey, rode away to other parts of the town, 
where he repeated his grandiloquent announcement, followed, 
as may be supposed, by a numerous cortege of little ragged 
boys. 

About four o’clock in the aftenoon, Melchior made his 
appearance in the market-place, attended by me, dressed as a 
German student, Timothy and Num in their costumes. A stage 
had been already prepared, and the populace had crowded 
round it, more with the intention of laughing than of making 
purchases. The various packets were opened and arranged in 
front of the platform, I standing on one side of Melchior, 
Timothy on the other, and Num with his trumpet, holding on 
by one of the scaffold poles at at the corner. 

“ Sound the trumpet, Philotas,” said Melchior, taking off his 
three-cornered hat, and making a low bow to the audience at 
every blast. “ Pray, Mr. Fool, do you know why you sound the 
^ trumpet ?” 

Pm sure I don’t know,” replied Num, opening his goggle 
eyes. 

“ Do you know, Mr. Dionysius ?” 

‘‘Yes, sir, I can guess.” 

“ Explain then, to the gentlemen and ladies who have hon- 
oured us with their presence.” 

“ Because, sir, trumpets are always sounded before great 
conquerors.” 

“ Very true, sir ; but how am I a great conqueror ?” 

“ You have conquered death, sir ; and he’s a very rum cus- 
tomer to have to deal .with.” 

“ Dionysius you have answered well, and shall have some 
bullock’s liver for your supper — don’t forget to remind me, in 
case I forget it.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


91 


“ No, that 1 won’t, sir,” replied Timothy, rubbing his stomach, 
as if delighted with the idea. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” said Melchior to the audience, who 
were on the broad grin, “ I see your mouths are all open, and 
are waiting for the pills ; but be not too impatient — I cannot 
part with my medicines unless you have diseases which re- 
quire their aid ; and I should, indeed, be a sorry doctor, if I 
prescribed without knowing your complaints. Est neutrak 
genus signans rem non animatam, says Herodotus, which in 
English means, what is one man’s meat is another man’s poison; 
and further, he adds. Tit jecur, ut onus, put ut occiput, which is 
as much as to say, that what agrees with one temperament, will 
be injurious to another. Caution, therefore, becomes very 
necessary in the use of medicine ; and my reputation depends 
upon my not permitting any one to take what is not good for 
him. And now, my very dear friends, I will first beg you to 
observe the peculiar qualities of the contents of this little phial. 
You observe that there is not more than sixty drops in it, yet 
will these sixty drops add ten years to a man’s life — for it will 
cure him of almost as many diseases. In the first place, are 
any of you troubled with the ascites, or dropsy, which as the 
celebrated Galen hath declared, may be divided into three 
parts, the ascites, the anasarca, and the tympanites. The diag- 
nostics of this disease are, swelling of the abdomen or stomach, 
difficulty of breathing, want of appetite, and a teazing cough. 
I say, have any of you this disease ? None. Then I thank 
Heaven, that you are not so afflicted. 

“ The next disease it is good for, is the peripneumonia, or 
inflammation on the lungs — the diagnostics or symptoms of 
which are, a small pulse, swelling of the eyes, and redness of 
the face. Say, have any of you these symptoms — if so, you 
have the disease. No one. I thank Heaven that you are none 
of you so afflicted. 

“ It is also a sovereign remedy for the diarrhoea, the diagnos- 
tics of which are, faintness, frequent gripings, rumbling in the 
bowels, cold sweats, and spasm.” 


92 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

Here one man came forward and complained of frequent 
gripings — another of rumbling in the bowels, and two or three 
more of cold sweats. 

“ It is well. 0 I thank Heaven that I am here to adminis- 
ter to you myself I for what says Hippocrates ? Kelativum cum 
antecedente concordat, which means, that remedies quickly ap- 
plied, kill the disease in its birth. Here, my friends, take it — 
take it — pay me only one shilling, and be thankful. When you 
go to rest, fail not to offer up your prayers. It is also a sove- 
reign remedy for the dreadful chiragra or gout. I cured the 
whole corporation of city aldermen last week, by their taking 
three bottles each, and they presented me with the freedom of 
the city of London, in a gold box, which I am sorry that I 
have forgotten to bring with me. Now the chiragra may be 
divided into several varieties. Gonagra, when it attacks the 
knees — chiragra, if in the hands — onagra, if in the elbow- — 
omagra, if in the shoulder, and lumbago, if in the back. All 
these are varieties of gout, and for all these the contents of 
this little bottle is a sovereign remedy ; and, observe, it will 
keep for ever. .Twenty years hence, when afflicted in your old 
age — and the time will come, my good people — ^you may take 
down this little phial from the shelf, and bless the hour in which 
you spent your shilling ; for, as Eusebius declares, ‘ Verbum^per- 
sonale concordat cum nominoiivo,^ which is as much as to say, the 
active will grow old, and suffer from pains in their limbs. Who, 
then, has pains in his limbs or lumbago ? Who, indeed, can 
say that he will not have them 

After this appeal, the number of those who had pains in their 
limbs, or who wished to provide against such a disease, proved 
so great, that all our phials were disposed of, and the doctor 
■was obliged to promise that in a few days he would have some 
more of this invaluable medicine ready. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen, I shall now offer to your notice a valu- 
able plaster, the effects of which are miraculous. Dionysius, 
come hither, you have felt the benefit of this plaster ; tell youi 
case to those who are present, and mind you tell the truth ” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER, 


03 


Hereupon Timothy stepped forward. “ Ladies and gentle- 
men, upon my honour^ about three weeks back I fell off the 
scaffold, broke my back bone into three pieces, and was carried 
off to a surgeon, who looked at me, and told the people to take 
measure for my coffiu. The great doctor was not there at the 
time, having been sent for to consult with the king’s physi- 
cians upon the queen’s case, of Cophagus, or intermitting mor- 
tification of the great toe ; but fortunately, just as they were 
putting me into a shell, my master came back, and immediately 
applying his sovereign plaster to my back, in five days I was 
able to sit up, and in ten days I returned to my duty.” 

“ Are you quite well now, Dionysius ?” 

“ Quite well, sir, and my back is like whalebone.” 

“ Try it.” 

Hereupon Dionysius threw two somersets forward, two back- 
ward, walked across the stage on his hands, and tumbled in 
every direction. 

“You see, gentlemen, I’m quite well now, and what I have 
said, I assure you, on my honour, to be a fact.” 

“ I hope you’ll allow that to be a very pretty cure,” said the 
doctor, appealing to the audience ; “ and I hardly need say, 
that for sprains, bruises, contusions, wrenches, and dislocations, 
this plaster is infallible ; and I will surprise you more by telling 
you, that I can sell it for eight-pence a sheet.” 

The planter went off rapidly, and ^^as soon expended. Tho 
doctor went on describing his other valuable articles, and when 
he came to his cosmetics, &c., for women, we could not hand 
them out fast enough. “ And now,” said the doctor, “ I must 
bid you farewell for this evening.” 

“ I’m glad of that,” said Timothy, “ for now I mean to sell 
my own medicine.” 

“ Your medicine, Mr. Dionysius I what do you mean by 
tliat ?” 

“Mean, sir ; I mean to say that I’ve got a powder of my 
own contriving, which is a sovereign remedy.” 

“ Remedy, sir, for what ?” 


94 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ Why, it’s a powder to kill fleas, and what’s more, it’s just 
as infallible as your own.” 

“ Have you, indeed ; and pray, sir, how did you hit upon the 
invention ?” 

“ Sir, I discovered it in my sleep by accident ; but I have 
proved it, and I will say, if properly administered, it is quite as 
infallible as any of yours. Ladies and gentlemen, I pledge you 
my honour that it will have the effect desired, and all I ask is 
sixpence a powder.” 

“ But how is it to be used, sir ?” 

“ Used — why, like all other powders ; but I won’t give the 
directions till I have sold some ; promising, however, if my 
method does not succeed, to return the money.” 

“Well, that is fair, Mr. Dionysius ; and I will take care that 
you keep your bargain. Will any body purchase the fool’s 
powder for killing fleas ?” 

“Yes, I will,” replied a man on the broad grin, “ here’s six 
pence. Now, then, fool, how am I to use it ?” 

“Use it,” said Timothy, putting the sixpence in his pocket ; 
“ I’ll explain to you. You must first catch the flea, hold him 
so tight between the fore finger and thumb as to force him to 
open his mouth ; when his mouth is open you must put a very 
little of this powder into it, and it will kill him directly.” 

“ Why, when I have the flea as tight as you state, I may as 
well kill him myself.” 

“ Very true, so you may, if you prefer it ; but if you do not, 
you may use this powder, which upon my honour is infallible.” 

This occasioned a great deal of mirth among the by-standers. 
Timothy kept his sixpence, and our exhibition for this day 
ended, very much to the satisfaction of Melchior, who declared 
he had taken more than ever he had done before in a w’holc 
week. Indeed, the whole sum amounted to £1^ 10s., all taken 
in shillings and sixpences, for articles hardly worth the odd 
shillings in the account ; so we sat down to supper with antici- 
pations of a good harvest, and so it proved. We stayed four 
days at this town, and then proceeded onwards, when the like 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


95 


success attended us, Timothy and I being obliged to sit up 
nearly the whole night to label and roll up pills, and mix medi- 
cines, which we did in a very scientific manner. Nor was it 
always that Melchior presided ; he would very often tell his 
audience that business required his attendance elsewhere, to 
visit the sick, and that he left the explanation of his medicines 
and their properties to his pupil, who was far advanced in 
knowledge. With my prepossessing appearance, ‘ I made a 
great effect, more especially among the ladies, and Timothy 
exerted himself so much when with me, that we never failed to 
bring home to Melchior a great addition to his earnings — so 
much so, that at last he only showed himself, pretended that 
he was so importuned to visit sick persons, that he could stay 
no longer, and then leave us after the first half hour, to carry 
on the business for him. After six weeks of uninterrupted 
success, we returned to the camp, which, as usual, was not very 
far off. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

IJIPORTANT NEWS, BUT NOT COMMUNICATED A DISSOLUTION OF PART. 

NERSHIP TAKES PLACE. 

Melchior’s profits had been much more than he anticipated, 
and be was very liberal to Timothy and myself ; indeed, he 
looked upon me as his right hand, and became more intimate 
and attached every day. We were, of course, delighted to 
return to the camp, after our excursion. There was so much 
continued bustle and excitement in our peculiar profession, that 
a little quiet was delightful ; and I never felt more happy than 
when Fleta threw herself into my arms, and Nattee came for- 
ward with her usual dignity and grace, but with more than 
usual condescendence and kindness, bidding me welcome home. 
Home — alas ! it was never meant for my home, or poor Fleta’a 
— and that I felt. It vras our sojourn for a time, and no more 


96 JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

We had been more than a year exercising our talents in this 
lucrative manner, when one day, as I was sitting at the en- 
trance to the tent, with a book in my hand, out of which Fleta 
was reading to me, a gipsy not belonging to our gang made 
his appearance. He was covered with dust, and the dew drops, 
hanging on his dark forehead, proved that he had travelled 
fast. He addressed Nattee, who was standing by, in their own 
language, which I did not understand ; but I perceived that he 
asked for Melchior. After an exchange of a few sentences, 
Nattee expressed astonishment and alarm, put her hands over 
her face, and removed them as quickly, as if derogatory in her 
to show emotion, and then remained in deep thought. Per- 
ceiving Melchior approaching, the gipsy hastened to him, and 
they were soon in animated conversation. In ten minutes it 
was over : the gipsy went to the running brook, w'ashed his 
face, took a large draught of water, and then hastened away, 
and was soon out of sight. 

Melchior, who had watched the departure of the gipsy, slowly 
approached us. I observed him and Nattde as they met, as I 
was certain that something important had taken place. Mel- 
chior fixed his eyes upon Nattee — she looked at him mournfully 
— folded her arms, and made a slight bow as if in submission, 
and in a low voice quoted from the Scriptures, “ Whither thou 
goest, I will go — ^thy people shall be my people, and thy God 
my God.” He then walked away with her : they sat down 
apart, and were in earnest conversation for more than an 
hour. 

“ Japhet,” said Melchior to me, after he had quitted his wife, 
“ what I am about to tell you will surprise you. I have trusted 
you with all I dare trust aify one, but there are some secrets in 
every man’s life which had better be reserved for himself and 
her who is bound to him by solemn ties. We must now part. 
In a few days this camp will be broken up, and these people will 
join some other division of the tribe. For me, you will see me 
no more. Ask me not to explain, for I cannot.” 

“ And Nattee,” said I. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


97 


“ Will follow my fortunes, whatever they may be — you will 
see her no more.” 

“ For myself I care not, Melchior ; the world is before me, 
and remain with the gipsies without you I will not : but answer 
me one question — what is to become of little Fleta ? Is she to 
remain with the tribe, to which she does not belong, or does she 
go with you ?” 

Melchior hesitated. “ I hardly can answer ; but what conse- 
quence can the welfare of a soldier's brat be to you ?” 

Allowing her to be what you assert, Melchoir, I am de- 
votedly attached to that child, and could not bear that slie 
should remain here. I am sure that you deceived me in what you 
stated ; for the child remembers, and has told me anecdotes of 
her infancy, which prove that she is of no mean family, and that 
she has been stolen from her friends.” 

“ Indeed, is her memory so good ?” replied Melchior, firmly 
closing his teeth. “ To Nattee or to me she has never hinted 
so much.” 

“ That is very probable ; but a stolen child she is, Melchior, 
and she must not remain here.” 

“ Must not I” 

“ Yes, must not, Melchior : when you quit the tribe, you will 
no longer have any power, nor can you have any interest about 
her. She shall then choose — if she will come with me, I will 
take her, and nothing shall prevent me ; and in so doing I do 
you no injustice, nor do I swerve in my fidelity.” 

“ How do you know that ? I may have my secret reasons 
against it.” 

“ Surely you can have no interest in a soldier's brat, Mel- 
chior ?” 

Melchior appeared confused and annoyed. “ She is no sol- 
dier's brat : I acknowledge, Japhet, that the child was stolen ; 
but you must not, therefore, imply that the child was stolen by 
m3 or by my wife.” 

“ I never accused you, or thought you capable of it ; and that 
is the reason why I am now surprised at the interest you take iu 

5 


98 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


her. If she prefers to go with you, I have no more to say, but 
if not, I claim her ; and if she consents, to resist your interfer- 
ence.” 

“ Japhet,” replied Melchior after a pause, “ we must not quar- 
rel now that we are about to part. I will give you an answer 
in half an hour.” 

Melchior returned to Nattee, and recommenced a conversation 
with her, while I hastened to Fleta. 

“ Flet^, do you know that the camp is to be broken up, and 
Melchior and Nattee leave it together ?” 

“ Indeed I” replied she with surprise. “ Then what is to be- 
come of you and Timothy ?” 

. ‘*We must of course seek our fortunes where w e can.” 

“ And of me ?” continued she, looking me ea, rr.es ily in the 
face with her large blue eyes. “ Am I to stay here ?” continued 
she — with alarm in her countenance. 

“ Not if you do not wish it, Fleta : as long as I can support 
you I will — that is, if you would like to live with me in prefer 
ence to Melchior.” 

“If I would like, Japhet I you must know I would like, 
— who has been so kind to me as you I DonT leave me, 
Japhet.” 

“ I will not, Fleta ; but on condition that you promise to be 
guided by me, and to do all I wish.” 

“ To do what you wish is the greatest pleasure that I have 
Japhet — so I may safely promise that. What has happened?” 

“ That I do not know more than yourself ; but Melchior tells 
me that he and Nattee quit the gipsy tents for ever.” 

Fleta looked round to ascertain if any one was near us, and 
then in a low tone said, “ I understand their language, Japhet, 
that is, a great deal of it, although they do not think so, and I 
overheard what the gipsy said in part, although he was at some 
distance. He asked for Melchior ; and when Nattee wanted 
to know what he wanted, he aoiswered that ‘ ht was dead then 
Nattee covered up her face. I could not hear all the rest, but 
there was something about a horsed 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


99 


He was dead. Had then Melchior committed murder, and was 
obliged to fly the country ? This appeared to me to be the 
most probable, when I collected the facts in my possession ; 
and yet I could not believe it ; for except that system of deceit 
necessary to carry on his various professions, I never found any 
thing in Melchior^s conduct which could be considered as crimi- 
nal. On the contrary, he was kind, generous and upright in 
his private dealings, and in many points proved that he had a 
a good heart. He was a riddle of inconsistency, it was certain; 
professionally he would cheat any body, and disregard all truth 
and honesty ; but in his private character he was scrupulously 
honest, and with the exception of the assertion relative to 
Fleta’s birth and parentage, he had never told me a lie, that 1 
could discover. I was summing up all these reflections in my 
mind, when Melchior again came up to me, and desiring the 
little girl to go away, he said, “Japnet, I have resolved to 
grant your request with respect to Fleta, but it must be on con- 
ditions.” 

• ‘‘ l^et me hear them.’" 

“First, then, Japhet, as you always have been honest and 
confiding with me, tell me now what are your intentions. Do 
you mean to follow up the profession which you learnt under 
me, or what do you intend to do 

“ Honestly, then, Melchior, I do not intend to follow up that 
profession, unless driven to it by necessity. I intend to seek 
my father.” 

“ And if driven to it by necessity, do you intend that Fleta 
shall aid you by her acquirements ? In short, do you mean to 
take her with you as a speculation, to make the most of her, to 
let her sink, when she arrives at the age of woman, into vice 
and misery ?” 

“ I wonder at your asking mo that question, Melchior ; it is 
the his'i^ act of injustice I have received at your hands. No ; 
if obliged to follow up the profession, I will not allow Fleta so 
to do. I would sooner that she were in her grave. It is to 
rescue her from that very vice and misery, to take her out of a 


100 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


society in which she never ought to have> been placed, that I 
take her with me.” 

“ And this upon your honour ?” 

“Yes, upon my honour. I love her as my sister, and cannot 
help indulging in the hope that in seeking my father I may 
chance to stumble upon hers.” 

Melchior bit his lips. “There is another promise I must 
exact from you, Japhet, which is, that to a direction which I 
will give you, every six months you will enclose an address 
where you may be heard of, and also intelligence as to Fleta’s 
welfare and health.” 

“ To that I give my cheerful promise ; but, Melchior, you 
appear to have taken, all at once, a strange interest in this 
little girl.” 

“ I wish you now to think that I do take an interest in her 
provided you seek not to inquire the why and the wherefore. 
Will you accept of funds for her maintenance ?” 

“Not without necessity compels me ; and then I should be 
glad to find, when I can no longer help her, that you are still 
her friend.” 

“ Recollect, that you will always find what is requisite by 
writing to the address which I shall give you before we part. 
That point is now settled, and on the whole I think the arrange- 
ment is good.” 

Timothy had been absent during the events of the morning. 
When he returned, I communicated to him what had passed, 
and was about to take place. 

“ Well, Japhet, I don’t know — I do not dislike our present 
life, yet I am not sorry to change it ; but what are we to do ?” 

“ That remains to be considered : we have a good stock o: 
money, fortunately, and we must husband it till we find what 
can be done.” 

We took our suppers all together for the last time, Melchior 
telling us that he had determined to set off the next day 
Nattee looked very melancholy, but resigned ; on the contrary, 
little Flcta was so overjoyed, that her face, generally so mourn- 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A' FATHER. 


101 


• ful, was illuminated with smiles whenever our eyes met. It was 
deh'ghiful to see her so happy. The whole of the people in the 
camp had retired, and Melchior was busy making his arrange- 
ments in the tent. I did not feel inclined to sleep ; I was 
thinking and revolving in my mind my prospects for the future; 
sitting, or rather lying down, for I was leaning on my elbow, at 
a short distance from the tents. The night was dark but clear, 
and the stars were brilliant. I had been watching them, and 
I thought upon Melchior’s ideas of destiny, and dwelling on the 
futile wish that I could read mine, when I perceived the 
approach of Nattee. 

“ Japhet,” said she, “ you are to take the little girl with you, 
I find — will you be careful of her ? for it would be on my con- 
science if she were left to the mercy of the world. She departs 
rejoicing, let not her joy end in tears. I depart sorrowing. I 
leave my people, my kin, my habits, and customs, my influence, 
all — but it must be so, it is my destiny. She is a good child, 
Japhet — promise me that you will be a friend to her — and give 

her this to wear in remembrance of me, but not yet — uot 

till we are gone ” She hesitated. “Japhet, do not let 

Melchior see it in your possession ; he may not like me having 
given it away.” , I took the piece of paper containing the pres- 
ent, and having promised all she required, “ This is the last- 
yes — the veiy last time that I may behold this scene,” continued 
Nattee, surveying the common, the tents, and the animals 
browsing. “ Be it so ; Japhet, good night, may you prosper I” 
She then turned away and entered her tent ; and soon after- 
wards I followed her example. 

The next day, Melchior was all ready. What he had packed 
up was contained in two small bundles. He addressed the peo- 
ple belonging to the gang, in their own language. Natttie did 
the same, and the whole of them kissed her hand. The tents, 
furniture, and the greatest part of his other property, were dis- 
tributed among them, Jumbo and Num were made over to two 
of the principal men. Timothy, Fleta, and I were also ready, 
and intended to quit at the same time as Melchior and his wife 


102 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 


“ Japhet,” said Melcliior, “ there is yet some money due tc 
you for our last excursion — (tliis^was true/) — here it is — you 
and Timotliy keep but one purse, I am aware. Good-by, and 
may you prosper I’’ 

AVe shook hands with Nattee and Melchior. Fleta went up 
to the former, and crossing her arms bent her head. Nattce 
kissed the child, and led her to Melchior. He stooped down, 
kissed her on the forehead, and I perceived a sign of strongly 
suppressed emotion as he did so. Our intended routes lay in a 
different direction ; and when both parties had arrived to either 
verge of the common, we waved our hands as a last farewell, 
and resumed our paths again. Fleta burst into tears as she 
turned away from her former guardians. 


CHAPTER XYII. 

A CABINET COUNCIL 1 RESOLVE TO SET UP AS A GENTLEMAN, HAVING 

• AS LEGITIMATE PRETENSIONS TO THE RANK OF ONE AS MANY 
OTHERS. 

I LED the little sobbing girl by the hand, and we proceeded for 
some time in silence. It was not until we gained the high road 
that Timothy interrupted my reverie, by observing, “ Japhet, 
have you at all made up your mind what you shall do ?’’ 

I have been reflecting, Timothy. We have lost a great 
deal of time. The original intention with which I left London 
has been almost forgotten ; but it must be so no longer. I 
now have resolved that as soon as I have placed this poor little 
girl in safety, that I will prosecute my search, and never be 
diverted from it.” 

“ I cannot agree with you that we have lost time, Japhet : 
we had very little money when we started upon our expedition, 
and now we have sufficient to enable you to prosecute your 
plans for a long time. The question is, in what direciion r 


JAPHLi, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


loa 


We quitted London, and travelled west, in imitation, as we 
thought, of the wise men. With all deference, in my opinion, 
it was like two fools 

“I have been thinking upon that point also, Tim, and I agree 
with you. I expect, from several causes, which you know as 
well as I do, to find my father among the higlier classes of 
society ; and the path we took when we started has led us 
into the very lowest. It appears to me that we cannot do 
better than retrace* our steps. We have the means now to 
appear as gentlemen, and to mix in good company ; and Lon- 
don is the very best place for us to repair to.” 

That is precisely my ojnnion, Japhet, with one single 
exception, which I will mention to you : but first tell me, have 
you calculated what our joint purses may amount to ? It must 
be a very considerable sum.” 

I had not examined the packet in which was the money 
which Melchior had given me at parting. I now opened it, 
and found, to my surprise, that there were Bank notes to the 
amount of one hundred pounds. I felt that he had given me 
this large sum that it might assist me in Fleta’s expenses, 
‘‘ With this sum,” said I, “ I cannot have much less than two 
hundred and fifty pounds.” 

“ And I have more than sixty,” said Timothy. “ Keally, the 
profession was not unprofitable.” 

“No,” replied I, laughing; “but recollect, Tim, that we 
had no outlay. The public provided us with food, our lodging 
cost us nothing. We have had no taxes to pay ; and at the 
same time have taxed folly and credulity to a great extent.” 

“ That’s true, Japhet ; and although I am glad to have the 
money, I am not sorry that we have abandoned the profes- 
sion.” 

“Nor am I, Tim; if you please, we will forget it alto- 
gether. But tell me, what was the exception you were about 
to make ?” 

“ Simply this. Although upwards of three hundred pounds 
may be a great deal of money, yet, if we are to support tlie 


104 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


character and appearance of gentlemen, it will not last f'cr- 
ever. For instance, we must have our valets. What at 
expense that will be ! Our clothes too— we shall soon lose our 
rank and station in society, without we obtain a situation 
under government.” 

“We must make it last as long as we can, Timothy ; tini 
trust to good fortune to assist us.” 

“ That’s all very well, Japhet ; but I had rather tiust to our 
own prudence. Now hear what I have to say. You will be 
as much assisted by a trusty valet as by any other means. 1 
shall, as a gentleman, be only an expense and an incumbrance j 
but as a valet I shall be able to play into your hands, at the 
same time more than one half the expense will be avoided. 
With your leave, therefore, I will take my proper situation, 
put on your livery, and thereby make myself of the greatest 
use.” 

I could not help acknowledging the advantages to be derived 
from this proposal of Timothy’s ; but I did not like to accept it. 

“It is very kind of you, Timothy,” replied I ; “ but I can 
only look upon you as a friend and an equal.” 

“ There you are right and are wrong in the same breath 
You are right in looking upon me as a friend, Japhet ; and 
you would be still more right in allowing me to prove my friend- 
ship as I propose ; but you are wrong in looking upon me as 
an equal, for I am not so either in personal' appearance, educa- 
tion, or any thing else. AVe are both foundlings, it is true ; 
but you were christened after Abraham Newland, and I after 
the workhouse pump. You were a gentleman foundling, pre- 
senting yourself with a fifty-pound note, and good clothes. I 
made my appearance in rags and misery. If you find your 
parents, you will rise in the world ; if I find mine, I shall, in 
all probability, have no reason to be proud of them. I there- 
fore must insist upon having my own choice in the part I am to 
play in the drama, and I will prove to you that it is my right 
to choose. You forget that, when we started, your object was 
to search after your father, and I told you mine should be tc 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 10 £ 

:Ook after my mother. You have selected high life as the 
expected sphere in which he is to be found, and I select low 
life as that in which I am most likely to discover tlie object of 
my search. So you perceive,” continued Tim, laughing, “ that 
we must arrange so as to suit the views of both without part- 
ing company. Do you hunt among bag-wigs, amber-headed 
canes, silks and satins — I will burrow among tags and tassels, 
dimity and mob caps ; and probably we shall both succeed in 
the object of our search. I leave you to hunt in the drawing- 
rooms, while I ferret in the kitchen. You may throw yourself 
on a sofa and exclaim — ‘ Who is my father V while I will 
sit in the cook’s lap, and ask her if she may happen to be my 
mother.” 

This sally of Timothy’s made even Fleta laugh ; and after a 
little more remonstrance, I consented that he should perform 
the part of my valet. Indeed, the more I reflected upon it, the 
greater appeared the advantages which might accrue from the 
arrangement. By the time that this point had been settled, we 
had arrived at the town to which we directed our steps, and 
took up our quarters at an inn of moderate pretensions, but of 
very great external cleanliness. My first object was to find out 
some fitting asylum for little Fleta. The landlady was a buxom, 
good tempered young woman, and I gave the little girl into her 
charge, while Timothy and I went out on a survey. I had made 
up my mind to put her to some good, but not very expensive, 
school, if such were to be found in the vicinity. I should have 
preferred taking her with me to London, but I was aware how 
much more expensive it would be to provide for her there; and 
as the distance from the metropolis was but twenty miles, I 
could easily run down to see her occasionally. I desired the lit- 
tle girl to call me her brother, as such I intended to be to her in 
future, and not to answer every question they might put to her. 
There was, however, little occasion for thfs caution ; for Fleta 
was, as I before observed, very unlike children in general. I 
then went out with Timothy to look for a tailor, that I might 
order our clothes, as what we had on were not either of the verv 

5 * 


106 _ 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


best taste, or in the Tery best condition. We walked up thf; 
main street, and soon fell in with a tailor’s shop, over which was 
written in large letters — “ Feodor Shneider, Tailor to his Koyal 
Highness the Prince of Darmstadt.” 

“ Will that do, Japhet V’ said Timothy, pointing to the 
announcement. 

“ Why yes,” replied I ; “ but how the deuce the Prince of 
Darmstadt should have employed a man in a small country 
town as his tailor, is to me rather a puzzle.” • 

“ Perhaps he made his clothes when he was in Germany/' 
replied Tim. 

“ Perhaps he did ; but, however, he shall have the honour of 
making mine.” 

We entered the shop, and I ordered a suit of the most 
fashionable clothes, choosing my colours, and being very minute 
ill my directions to the foreman, who measured me ; but as I 
was leaving the shop the master, judging by my appearance, 
which was certainly not exactly that of a gentleman, ventured 
to observe that it was customary with gentlemen, whom they had 
not the honour of knowing, to leave a deposit. Although the 
very proposal was an attack upon my gentility, I made no reply ; 
but pulling out a handful of guineas, laid down two on the 
counter and walked away, that I might find another shop at 
which we might order the livery of Timothy ; but this was only 
as a reconnoitre* as I did not intend to ordei: his liveries until T 
could appear in my own clothes, which were promised on the 
afternoon of the next day. There were, however, several other 
articles to be purchased, such as a trunk, portmanteau, hat, 
gloves, &c., all which we procured, and then went back to the 
inn. On my return I ordered dinner. Fleta was certainly clad 
in her best frock, but bad was the best ; and the landlady, whe 
could extract little from the child, could not imagine who we 
could be. I had, however, allowed her to see more than suffi- 
cient money to warrant our expenses ; and so far her scruples 
were, although her curiosity was not, removed. 

That evening I had a long conversation with Fleta. I toh.] 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


101 


her that we were to part, that she must go to school, and that 
I would very often come down to see her. At first, she was in 
consolable at the idea ; but I reasoned with her, and the gentle, 
intelligent creature acknowledged that it was right. The next 
day my clothes came home, and I dressed myself. “ Without 
flattery, Japhet,” said Timothy, “you do look very much like a 
gentleman.” Fleta smiled, and said the same. I thought so 
too, but said nothing. Putting on my hat and gloves, and 
accompanied by Timothy, I descended to go out and order Tim. 
liveries, as well as a fit-out for Fleta. 

After I was out in the street I discovered that I had left my 
handkerchief, and returned to fetch it. The landlady, seeing a 
gentleman about to enter the inn, made a very low courtesy, 
and it was not until I looked hard at her that she recognised 
me. Then I was satisfied ; it was an involuntary tribute to 
my appearance, worth all the flattering assertions in the world. 
We now proceeded to the other tailor’s in the main street. I 
entered the shop with a flourishing, important air, and was 
received with many bows. “ I wish,” said I, “ to have a suit 
of livery made for this young man, who is about to enter into 
my service. I cannot take him up to town this figure.” 
The livery was chosen, and as I expressed my wish to be off 
the next evening, it was promised to be ready by an hour 
appointed. 

I then went to a milliner’s, and desired that she would call 
at the inn to fit out a little girl for school, whose wardrobe 
had been left behind by mistake. On the fourth day all was 
ready. I had made inquiries, and found out a very respectable 
school, kept by a widow lady. I asked for references, which 
were given, and I was satisfied. The terms were low — twenty 
pounds per annum. I paid the first half year in advance, and 
lodged fifty guineas more in the hands of a banker, taking a 
receipt for it, and giving directions that it was to be paid to 
the schoolmistress as it became due. I took this precaution, 
that should I be in poverty myself, at all events Fleta might 
be provided in clothes and schooling for three years at least. 


lOS JAPHET, IN SEARCH OE A RATHER 

The poor child wept bitterly at the separation, and I could 
with difficulty detach her little arms from my neck ; and I felt 
wdien I left her as if I had parted with the only Taluable object 
to me on earth, 

All was now ready j but Timothy did not, as yet, assume 
his new clothes. It would have appeared strange that one 
who sat at my table should afterwards put on my livery ; and 
as in a small town there is always plenty of scandal, for Fleta’s 
sake, if for no other reason, it was deferred until our arrival in 
London, Wishing the landlady good-by, who I really believed 
would have given up her bill to have known who we could 
possibly be, we got on the outside of the stage-coach, and in 
the evening arrived at the metropolis. I have been particular 
in describing all these little circumstances, as it proves how 
very awkward it is to jump, without observation, from one sta- 
tion in society to another. 


CHAPTER XYIIL 

1 RECEIVE A LETTER FROM MY -UNCLE, BY WHICH I NATURALi i' 

EXPECT TO FIND OUT WHO IS MY FATHER LIKE OTHER OJTCAST'J 

I AM WARNED BY A DREAM. 

But I have omitted to mention a circumstance of great impor- 
tance which occurred at the inn the night before I placed Fleta 
at the boarding-school. In looking over my portmanteau, 1 
perceived the present of Nattee to Fleta, which I had quite 
forgotten. I took it to Fleta, and told her from wffiom it came. 
On opening the paper, it proved to contain a long chain of 
round coral and gold beads, strung alternately; the gold beads 
were not so large as the coral, but still the number of them, 
and the purity of the metal, made them of considerable value 
Fleta passed the beads through her fingers, and then threw i1 
round her neck,- and sat in deep thought for some minutes. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


109 


Japhet,” said she, at last, “I have seen this — I have worn 
;his before — I recollect that I have ; it rushes into my memorj 
as an old friend, and I think that before morning it will bring 
to my mind something that I shall recollect about it.” 

“ Try all you can, Fleta, and let me know to-morrow.” 

“It’s no use trying ; if I try, I never can recollect any 
thing. I must wear it to-night, and then I shall have some- 
thing come into my mind all of a sudden j or perhaps I may 
dream something. Good night.” 

It immediately occurred to me that it was most probable 
that the chain had been on Fleta’s neck at the time that she 
was stolen from her parents, and might prove the means of 
her being identified. It was no common chain — apparently 
had been wrought by people in a state of semi-refinement. 
There was too little show for its value — too much sterling 
gold for the simple effect produced ; and I very much doubted 
whether another like it could be found. 

The next morning Fleta was too much affected at parting 
with me, to enter into much conversation. I asked whether 
she had recollected any thing, and she replied, “ No ; that she 
had cried all night at the thoughts of our separation.” I 
cautioned her to be very careful of the chain, and I gave the 
same caution to the schoolmistress ; and after I had left the 
town, I regretted that I had not taken it away, and deposited 
it in some place of security. I resolved to do so when I next 
saw Fleta ; in the mean time she would be able, perhaps, by 
association, to call up some passage of her infancy connected 
with it. 

I had inquired of a gentleman who sat near me on the coach, 
which was the best hotel for a young man of fashion. He 
recommended the Piazza, in Covent Garden, and to that we 
accordingly repaired. I selected handsome apartments, and 
ordered a light supper. When the table was laid, Timothy 
made his appearance in his livery, and cut a very smart, 
dashing figure. I dismissed the waiter, and as soon as we 
were alone, I burst into a fit of laughter. “ Really, Timotliy, 


110 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

this is a good farce ; come, sit down, and help me to finish this 
bottle of wine.” 

“ No, sir,” replied Timothy ; “with your permission, I prefer' 
doing as the rest of my fraternity. You only leave the bottle 
on the side-board, and I will steal as much as I want ; but as 
for sitting down, that will be making too free, and if we were 
seen, would be, moreover, very dangerous. We must both 
keep up our characters. They have been plying me with all 
manner of questions below, as to who you were — ^your name, 
&c. I resolved that I would give you a lift in the world, and 
I stated that you had just arrived from making a grand tour — 
which is not a fib, after all — and as for your name, I said that 
you were at present incogP 

“But why did you make me incog. ?” 

“ Because it may suit you so to be ; and it certainly is the 
truth, for you don’t know your real name.” 

We were here interrupted by the waiter bringing in a letter 
upon a salver. “ Here is a letter addressed to ‘ I or J. N., on 
his return from his tour,’ sir,” said he ; “I presume it is for 
you ?” 

“You may leave it,’’ said I, with nonchalance. 

The waiter laid the letter on the table, and retired. 

“ How very odd, Timothy — this letter cannot be for me ; 
and yet they are my initials. It is as much like a J as an I. 
Depend upon it, it is some fellow who has just gained this 
intelligence below, and has written to ask for a subscription 
to his charity list, imagining that I am flush of money and 
liberal.” 

“I suppose so,” replied Tim; “ however,* you may just as 
well see what he says.” 

“ But if I open it he will expect something. I had better 
refuse it.” 

“ Oh, no, leave that to me ; I know how to put people oft*.” 

“After all, it is a fine thing to be a gentleman, and be 
petitioned.” 

I broke open the seal, and found that the letter contained 


JAPHET, m SEARCH OF A FATHER, IIJ 

an enclosure addressed to another person. The letter was as 
follows : 

“My DEAR Nephew — [‘.Bravo, sir,’ said Timothy ; ‘you’ve 
found an uncle already — you’ll soon find a father.’] From the 
great uncertainty of the post, I have not ventured to do more 
than hint at what has come to light during this last year, but 
as it is necessary that you should be acquainted with the whole 
transaction, and as you had not decided when you last wrote, 
whether you would prosecute your intended three months’ trip 
to Sicily, or return from Milan, you may probably arrive when 
I am out of town ; I therefore enclose you a letter to Mr. 
Masterton, directing him to surrender to you a sealed packet, 
lodged ‘in his hands, containing all the particulars, the letters, 
which bear upon them, and what has been proposed to avoid 
exposure, which you may peruse at your leisure, should you 
arrive before my return to town. There is no doubt but that 
the affair may be hushed up, and we trust that you will see the 
prudence of the measure ; as, once known, it will be very dis- 
creditable to the family escutcheon. [‘ I always had an idea 
you were of good family,’ interrupted Tim.] I wish you had 
followed ray advice, and had not returned ; but as you were 
positive on that point, I beg you will now consider the pro- 
priety of remaining incognito, as reports are already abroad, 
and your sudden return will cause a great deal of surmise. 
Your long absence at the Gottingen University, and your 
subsequent completion of your grand tour, will have effaced 
all remembrance of your person, and you can easily be passed 
off as a particular friend of mine, and I can introduce you 
every where as such. Take, then, any name you may please, 
provided it be not Smith or Brown, or such vulgarisms ; and 
on the receipt of this letter, write a note, and send it to my 
house in Fortman Square, just saying, ‘ So and so is arrived.’ 
This will prevent the servants from obtaining any information 
by their prying curiosity ; and as I have directed all my letters 
to be forwarded to my scat in Worcestershire, I shall come up 


112 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

immediately that I receive it, and by your putting the name 
which you mean to assume, I shall know whom to ask for when 
I call at the hotel. 

“ Your affectionate Uncle, 

' “ WiNDERMEAR.” 

“ One thing is very clear, Timothy,” said I, laying the letter 
on the table, “ that it cannot be intended for me.” 

“ How do you know, sir, that this lord is not your uacle ? At 
all events you must do as he bids you.” 

“ What — go for the papers I most certainly I shall not.” 

“ Then how in the name of fortune do you expect to find your 
father, when you will not take advantage of such an opportu- 
nity of getting into society ? It is by getting possession of other 
people’s secrets, that you will worm out your own.” 

“ But it is dishonest, Timothy.” 

“ A letter is addressed to you, in which you have certain ai- 
rections ; you break the seal with confidence, and you read what 
you find is possibly not for you ; but depend upon it, Japhet, 
that a secret obtained is one of the surest roads to promotion. 
Recollect your position ; cut off from the world, you have to 
re-unite yourself with it, to recover your footing, and create an 
interest. You have not those who love you to help you — you 
must not scruple to obtain your object by fear.” 

“ That is a melancholy truth, Tim,” replied I ; “ and I believe 
I must put my strict morality in my pocket.” 

“Do sir, pray, until you can afford to be moral ; it’s a very 
expensive virtue that ; a deficiency of it made you an outcast 
from the world ; you must not scruple at a slight deficiency on 
your own part, to regain your position.” 

There was so much shrewdness, so much of the wisdom of the 
serpent in the remarks of Timothy, that, added to my ardent 
desire to discover my father, which since my quitting the gipsy 
camp had returned upon me with two-fold force, my scruple^ 
were overcome, and I resolved that I would not lose such au 
opportunity. Still I hesitated, and went up into my room, thni 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 113 

1 might reflect upon what I should do. I went to bed revolv* 
ing the matter in my mind, and turning over from one position 
to the other, at one time deciding that 1 would not take advan- 
tage of the mistake, at another quite as resolved that' I would 
not throw away such an opening for the prosecution of my search ; 
at last I fell into an uneasy slumber, and had a strange dream. 
I thought that I was standing upon an isolated rock, with the 
waters raging around me ; the tide was rismg, and at last the 
waves were rokring at my feet. I was in a state of agony, and 
expected that, in a short time, I should be swallowed up. The 
main land was not far off, and I perceived well-dressed people 
in crowds, who were enjoying themselves, feasting, dancing, and 
laughing in merry peals. I held out my hands — I shouted to 
them — they saw, and heard me, but heeded me not. My horror 
at being swept away by the tide was dreadful. I shrieked as 
the water rose. At last I perceived something unroll itself from 
the main land, and gradually advancing to the island, formed a 
bridge by which I could walk over and be saved. I was about 
to hasten over, when “ Private, and no thoroughfare,” appeared 
at the end nearest me, in large letters of fire. I started back 
with amazement, and would not, dared not pass them. When 
all of a sudden a figure in white appeared by my side, and said to 
me, pointing to the bridge, “ Self-preservation is the first law of 
nature.” 

I looked at the person who addressed me ; gradually the 
figure became darker and darker, until it changed to Mr. Co- 
phagus, with his stick up to his nose. “ Japhet, all nonsense — 
very good bridge — ^um — walk over — find father — and so on.” I 
dashed over the bridge, which appeared to float-on the water, 
and to be composed of paper, gained -the other side, and was 
received wdth shouts of congratulation, and the embraces of the 
crowd. I perceived an elderly gentleman come forward ; I knew 
it was my father, and I threw myself into his arms. I awoke, 
and found myself rolling on the floor, embracing the bolster with 
ill my might. Such was the vivid impression of this dream, 
that I(?o iid not turn my thoughts away from it, and at last I 


114 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


considered tliat it was a divine interposition. All my scruples 
vanished, and before the day had dawned I determined that I 
would follow the advice of Timothy. An enthusiast is easily 
led to believe what he wishes, and he mistakes his own feel 
ings for warnings ; the dreams arising from his daily contem 
plations for the interference of Heaven. He thinks himself 
armed by supernatural assistance, and warranted by the A1 
mighty to pursue his course, even if that course should be con- 
trary to the Almighty’s precepts. Thus was I led away by my 
own imaginings, and thus was my monomania increased to an 
impetus which forced before it all consideration of what was 
right or wrong. 


CHAPTER, XIX. 

AN IMPORTANT CHAPTER — I MAKE SOME IMPORTANT ACQUAINTANCES, 
OBTAIN SOME IMPORTANT PAPERS, WHICH I AM IMPORTUNATE TO 
READ THROUGH. 

The next morning I told my dream to Timothy, who laughed 
very heartily at my idea of the finger of Providence. At last, 
perceiving that I was angry with him, he pretended to be con- 
vinced. When I had finished my breakfast, I sent to inquire 
the number in the square of Lord Windermear’s town house, 
and wrote the following simple note to hisHordship, ^‘.Taphec 
Newland has arrived from his tour at the Piazza, Covent 
Garden.” This was confided to Timoth}^ and I then set oiT 
with the other letter to Mr. Masterton, which was addressed 
to Lincoln’s Inn. By reading the addresses of the several legal 
gentlemen, I found out that Mr. Masterton was located on the 
first floor. I rang the bell, which had the effect of “ Open, 
Sesame,” as the door appeared to swing to admit me withoit 
any assistance. I entered an ante-room, and from thence found 
myself in the presence of Mr. Masterton — a' little old man, with 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 115 

spectacles on his nose, sitting at a table covered with papers. 
He offered me a chair, and I presented the letter, 

'‘I see that I am addressing Mr. Neville,” said he, after he 
had perused the letter. “ I congratulate you on your return. 
You may not, perhaps, remember me ?” 

“ Indeed, sir, I cannot say that I do exactly.” 

I could not expect it, my dear sir, you have been so long 
away. You have very much improved in person, I must say, 
yet still 1 recollect your features as a mere boy. Without 
compliment, I had no idea that you would ever have made so 
handsome a man.” I bowed to the compliment. “Have you 
heard from your uncle ?” 

“ I had a few lines from Lord Windermear, inclosing your 
letter.” 

“He is well, I hope.” 

“ Quite well, I believe.” 

Mr. Masterton then rose, went to an iron safe, and brought 
out a packet of papers, which he put into my hands. “You 
will read these with interest, Mr. Neville. I am a party to the 
whole transaction, and must venture to advise you not to 
appear in England under your own name, until all is settled. 
Your uncle, I perceive, has begged the same.” 

“ And I have assented, sir. I have taken a name instead of 
my real one.” 

“ May I ask what it is ?” 

. “I call myself Mr. Japhet Newland.” . 

“ Well, it is singular, but perhaps as good as any other. I 
will take it down, in case I have to write to you. Your 
address is *' 

“ Piazza — Covent Garden.” 

JV’r. Masterton took my name and address, I took the 
caoers, and then Nve both took leave of one another, with many 
exoressions of pleasure and good will. 

y. returned to the hotel, where I found Timothy waiting for 
ce -with impatience. “ Japhet,” said he, “ Lord Windermear 
He. no': 3 et left town. I have seen him, for I was called back 


116 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


after I left the 'house, by the footman, who ran after me — ^hc 
will be here immediately.” 

“Indeed,” replied I. “Pray what sort of person is he; and 
what did he say to you ?” 

“He sent for me in the dining-parlour, where he was at 
breakfast, asked when you arrived, whether you were well, and 
how long I had been in your service. I replied that I had not 
been more than two days, and had just put on my liveries. He 
then desired me to tell Mr. Newland that he would call upon 
him in about two hours. Then, my lord,” replied T, “I had 
better go and tell him to get out of bed.” 

“ The lazy dog I” said he, “ nearly one o’clock, and not 
out of bed ; well, go then, and get him dressed as fast as you 
can.” 

Shortly afterwards, a handsome carriage with greys drew up 
to the door. His lordship sent in his footman to ask whether 
Mr. Newland was at home. The reply of the waiter was, that 
there was a young gentleman who had been there two or three 
days, who had come from making a tour, and his name did 
begin with an N. “ That will do, James ; let down the steps.” 
His lordship alighted, was ushered up stairs, and into my room 
There we stood, staring at each other. 

“ Lord Windermear, I believe,” said I, extending my hand. 

“ You have recognised me first, John,” said he, taking my 
hand, and looking earnestly in my face. “ Good heavens I is it 
possible that an awkward boy should have grown up into sa 
handsome a fellow ? I shall be proud of my nephew. Pid y^u 
remember me when I entered the room ?” 

“ To tell the truth, my lord, I did not, but expe?tiig you I 
took it for granted that it must be you.” 

“Nine years make a great difference, John b”t T forget, 
I must now call you Japhet. Have you been fearbug the PibI: 
lately, that you fixed upon that strange name ?” 

“No, my lord ; but this hotel is such a Noah’s ark, that 
no wonder I thought of it.” 

“ You’re an undutiful dog, not to ask after your aivther, sir.” 


TAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


in 


“ I was about ” 

“ I see — I see,” interrupted liis lordship ; “ but recollect, 
J ohn, that she still is yoxcr moihi". By-the-by, have you read 
the papers yet ?” 

“No, sir,” replied I ; “ there they are,” pointing to them on 
the side table. “ I really do not like to break the seals.” 

“ That they will not contain pleasant intelligence, I admit,” 
replied his lordship ; “ but until you have read them, I do not 
wish to converse with you on the subject, therefore,” said he, 
taking up the packet, and breaking the seals, “I must now 
insist that you employ this forenoon in reading them through. 
You will dine with me at seven, and then we will talk the 
matter over.” 

“ Certainly, sir, if you wish it, I will read them.” 

“ I must i'iisist upon it, John ; and am rather surprised at 
yo\xv objecting, when they concern you so particularly.” 

“ I shall obey your orders, sir.” 

“ Well then, my boy, I shall wish you good morning, that 
yo’7 may complete your task before you come to dinner. To* 
morrow, if you wish it — but recollect I never press young men 
on these points, as I am aware that they sometimes feel it a 
restraint — if you wish it, I say, you may bring your portman- 
teaus, and take up your quarters with me. By-the-by,” con- 
tinued his lordship, taking hold of my coat, “who made 
tliis ?” 

“ The tailor to his Serene Highness the Prince of Darmstadt 
had that honour, my lord,” replied I. 

“ Humph I I thought they fitted better in Germany; it’s not 
quite the thing — we must consult Stulz, for with that figure 
and face, the coat ought to be quite correct. Adieu, my dear 
fellow, till seven.” 

His Lordship shook hands with me, and I was left alone. 
Timothy came in as soon as his lordship’s carriage had driven 
off. “ Well sir,” said he, “ was your uncle glad to see you ?” 

“ Yes,” replied I; “and look, he has broken open the seals, 
and has insisted upon my reading the papers.” 


J18 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ It would be very undutiful in you to refuse, so I had better 
leave you to your task,” said Timothy, smiling, as he quitted 
the room. 


CHAPTER XX. 

I OPEN AN ACCOUNT WITH MY BANKERS, DRAW LARGELY UPON 
CREDULITY, AND AM PROSPEROUS WITHOUT A CHECK. 

I SAT down and took up the papers. I was immediately and 
strangely interested in all that I read. A secret ! — it was, in- 
deed, a secret, involving the honour and reputation of the mcst 
distinguished families. One that, if known, the trumpet of 
scandal would have blazoned forth to the disgrace of the aris- 
tocracy. It would have occasioned bitter tears to some, grati- 
fied the petty malice of many, satisfied the revenge of the vin- 
dictive, and bowed with shame the innocent as well as the 
guilty. It is not necessary, nor, indeed, would I, on any accoimt, 
state any more. I finished the last paper, and then fell into 
a reverie. This is, indeed, a secret, thought I; one that I would 
I never had possessed. In a despotic country my life would be 
sacrificed to the fatal knowledge — here, thank God, my life as 
well as my liberty are safe. 

The contents of the papers told me all that was necessary to 
enable me to support the character which I had assumed. The 
reason why the party, whom I w’as supposed to be, was in- 
trusted with it, was, that he was in a direct line, eventually 
heir, and the question was, whether he would waive his claim 
with the others, and allow death to bury crime in oblivion. I 
felt that were I in his position I should so do — and therefore 
was prepared to give an answer to his lordship. I sealed up 
the papers, dressed myself, and went to dinner; and after tic 
cloth was removed, Lord Windermear, first rising and turning 
the key in the door, said to me in a low voice, “You have read 
the papers, and what those, nearly as much interested as ycu 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


119 


are in this lamentable business, have decided upon. Tell me, 
what is your opinion 

“ My opinion, my lord, is, that I wish I had never known 
what has come to light this day — that it will be most advisable 
never to recur to the subject, and that the proposals made aie, 
in my opinion, most judicious, and should be acted upon.” 

“ That is well,” replied his lordship; “then all are agreed, 
and I am proud to find you possessed of such honour and good 
feeling. We now drop the subject for ever. Are you inclined 
to leave town with me, or what do you intend to do ?” 

“ I prefer remaining in town, if your lordship will introduce 
me to some of the families of your acquaintance. Of course I 
know no one now.” 

“ Yery true; I will introduce you, as agreed, as Mr. New- 
land. It may be as well that you do not know any of our 
relations, whom I have made to suppose that you are still 
abroad — and it would be awkward when you take your right 
name by-and-by. Do you mean to see your mother ?” 

“Impossible, my lord, at present; by-and-by I hope to be 
able.” 

“ Perhaps it’s all for the best. I will now write one note 
to Major Carbonnell, introducing |^ou as my particular friend, 
and requesting that he will make London agreeable. He knows 
every body, and will take you every where.” 

“ When does your lordship start for the country ?” 

“ To-morrow ; so we may as well part to-night. By-the-by, 
you have credit at Drummond’s, in the name of Newland, 
for a thousand pounds ; the longer you make it last you the 
better.” 

His lordship gave me the letter of introduction. I returned 
to him the sealed packet, shook hands with him, and took my 
departure. 

“ Well, sir,” said Timothy, rubbing his hands, as he stood 
before me, “ what is the news ; for I am dying to hear it — and 
what is the secret ?” 

“ With regard to the secret, Tim, a secret it must remain. I 


120 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


dare not tell it even to you.” Timothy looked rather grave at 
this reply. “No, Timothy, as a man of honour, I cannot.” 
My conscience smote me when I made use of the term ; for, as 
a man of honour, I had no business to be in possession of it. 
“ My dear Timothy, I have done wrong already, do not ask me 
to do worse.” 

“ I will not, Japhet ; but only tell me what has passed, and 
what you intend to do ?” 

“ That I will, Timothy, with pleasure ;” and I then stated all 
that had passed between his lordship and me. “ And now, you 
observe, Timothy, I have gained what I desired, an introduction 
into the best society.” 

“ And the means of keeping up your appearance,” echoed 
Timothy, rubbing his hands. “ A thousand pounds will last a 
long while.” 

“ It will last a very long while, Tim, for I never will touch 
it ; it would be swindling.” 

“ So it would,” replied Tim, his countenance falling ; “ well, 
I never thought of that.” 

“ I Have thought of much more, Tim ; recollect I must, in a 
very short time, be exposed to Lord Windermear, for the real 
Mr. Neville will soon come home.” 

“ Good heavens I what will become of us ?” replied Timothy, 
with alarm in his countenance. 

“Nothing can hurt you, Tim, the anger will be all upon 
me ; but I am prepared to face it, and I would face twice 
as much for the distant hope of finding my father. What- 
ever Lord Windermear may feel inclined to do, he can do 
nothing ; and my possession of the secret will insm*e even 
more than my safety ; it will afford me his protection, if j 
demand it.” 

“ I hope it may prove so,” replied Timothy, “ but I feel 
a little frightened.” 

“ I do not : to-morrow I shall give my letter of introduction, 
and then I will prosecute my search. So now, my dear Tim, 
good night.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


121 


The next morning, I lost no time in presenting my letter of 
introduction to Major Carbonnell. He lived in apartments on 
the first floor in St. James’s Street, and I found him at break- 
fast, in a silk dressing gown. I had made up my mind that a 
little independence always carries with it an air of fashion. 
When I entered, therefore, I looked at him with a knowing air, 
and dropping the letter down on the table before him, said, 
“ There’s something for you to read, major ; and, in the mean 
time, I’ll refresh myself on this chair suiting the action to the 
word, I threw myself on a chair, amusing myself with tapping 
the sides of my boots with a small cane which I carried in my 
hand. 

Major Carbonnell, upon whom I cast a furtive eye more 
than once during the time that he was reading the letter, was a 
person of about thirty-five years of age, well-looking, but 
disfigured^jy the size of his whiskers, which advanced to the 
corners of his mouth, and met under his throat. He was tall 
and well made, and with an air of fashion about him that wes 
undeniable. His linen was beautifully clean and carcfull}; 
arranged, and he had as many rings on his fingers, and, when 
he was dressed, chains and trinkets, as ever were put on by a 
lady. 

“ My dear sir, allow me the honour of making at once 
your most intimate acquaintance,” said he, rising from his chair, 
and offering his hand, as soon as he had perused the letter. 
“Any friend of Lord Windermear’s would be welcome, but 
when he brings such an extra recommendation in his own 
appearance, he becomes doubly so.” 

“ Major Carbonnell,” replied I, “ I have seen you but two 
minutes, and' I have taken a particular fancy to you, in which 
I, no doubt, have proved my discrimination. Of course, you 
know that I have just returned from making a tour.” 

So I understand from his lordship’s letter. Mr. Newland, 
my time is at your service. Where are you staying ?” 

“ At the Piazza.” 

“ Very good ; I will dine with you to day ; order some mul- 

6 


122 • JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 

ligatawny, they are famous for it. After dinner we will go to 
the theatre.^’ 

I was rather surprised at his cool manner of asking himself to 
dine with me and ordering my dinner, but a moment’s reflection 
made me feel what sort of person I had to deal with. 

“Major, I take that almost as an affront. You will dine 
with me to-day ! I beg to state that you must dine with me 
every day that we are not invited elsewhere ; and what’s more, 
sir, I shall be most seriously displeased, if you do not order the 
dinner every time that you do dine with me, and ask whoever 
you may think worthy of putting their legs under our table. 
Let’s have no doing things by halves, major ; I know you now 
as well as if we had been intimate for ten years.” 

The major seized me by the hand. “ My dear Newland, I 
only wish we had known one another ten years, as you say — the 
loss has been mine ; but now — you have breakfasffed, I pre- 
sume ?” 

“ Yes I having nothing to do, and not knowing a soul after 
my long absence, I advanced ,my breakfast about two hours, 
that I might find you at home ; and now I’m at your service.” 

“ Say rather I am at yours. I presume you will walk. In 
ten minutes I shall .be ready. Either take up the paper, or 
whistle an air or two, or any thing else you like, just to kill ten 
minutes — and I shall be at your command.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

* COME OUT UNDER A FIRST-RATE CHAPERON, AND AT ONCE AM 

ESTABLISHED INTO THE REGIONS OF FASHION PROVE THAT I 

AM DESERVING OF MY PROMOTION. 

“ I BEG your pardon, Newland,” said the major, retarning from 
his dressing-room, resplendent with chains and bijouterie •, “but 
I must have your Christian name.” 


JAPHET, m SEARCH OF A FATHER. 12b 

“ It’s rather a strange one,” replied I ; “it Js Japhe.t.” 

“Japhetl by the immortal powers, I’d bring an action 
against my godfathers and godmothers ; you ought to recover 
heavy damages.” 

“ Then I presume you would not have the name,” replied I, 
with a knowing look, “ for a clear ten thousand a year.” 

“ Whew I that alters the case — ^it’s astonishing how well any 
name looks in large gold letters. Well, as the old gentleman, 
whoever he might have been, made you compensation, you must 
forgive and forget. Now where shall tre go ?” 

“ With your permission, as I came to town in these clothes, 
•made by a German tailor — Darmstadt’s tailor, by-the-by — but 
still if tailor to a prince, not the prince of tailors — I would wish 
you to take me to your own : your dress appears very correct.’^ 

“ You show your judgment, Newland, it is correct ; Stulz 
will be delighted to have your name on his books, and to do jus- 
tice to that figure. Allons donc^ 

We sauntered up St. James’s Street, and before I had arrived 
at Stulz’s, I had been introduced to at least twenty of the 
young men about town. The major was most particular in his 
directions about the clothes, all of which he ordered ; and as I 
knew that he was well acquainted with the fashion, I gave him 
carte Uanche. When we left the shop, he said, “ Now, my dear 
Newland, I have given you a proof of friendship, which no other 
man in England has had. Your dress will be the ne plus ultra. 
There are little secrets only known to the initiated, and Stulz 
is aware that this time I am in earnest. I am often asked to 
do the same for others, and I pretend so to do ; but a wink 
from me is sufficient, and Stulz dares not dress them. Don’t 
you want some bijouterie ? or have you any at home ?” 

“ I may as well have a few trifles,” replied I. 

We entered a celebrated jeweller’s, and he selected for me to 
the amount of about forty pounds. “ That will do — never buy 
much ; for it is necessary to change every three months at 
least. What is the price of this chain ?” 

“ It is only fifteen guineas, major.”" 


124 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“Well, I shall take it ; but recollect,” continued the major, 
“ I tell you honestly I never shall pay you.” 

The jeweller smiled, bowed, and laughed ; the major threw 
the chain round his neck, and Ave quitted the shop. 

“At all events, major, they appear not to believe your word 
in that shop.” 

“My dear fellow, that’s their own fault, not mine. I tell 
them honestly I never will pay them ; and you may depend 
upon it, I intend most sacredly to keep my word. I never do 
pay any body, for the best of all possible reasons, I have no 
money ; but then I do them a service — I make them fashionable, 
and they know it.” 

“ What debts do you pay then, major ?” 

“ Let me think — that requires consideration. Oh I I pay my 
washerwoman.” 

“ Don’t you pay your debts of honour ?” 

“ Debts of honour I why I’ll tell you the truth ; for I know 
that we shall hunt in couples. If I win I take the money ; but 
if I lose — why then I forget to pay ; and I always tell them so 
before I sit down to the table. If they won’t believe me, it’s 
not my fault. But what’s the hour ? Come, I must make a 
few calls, and will introduce you.” 

We sauntered on to Grosvenor Square, knocked, and were 
admitted into a large, elegantly-furnished mansion. The foot- 
man announced us — “ My dear Lady Maelstrom, allow me the 
honour of introducing to you my very particular friend, Mr. 
Newland, consigned to my charge by my Lord Windermear 
during his absence. He has just arrived from the Continent, 
where he has been making the grand tour.” 

Her ladyship honoured me with a smile. “ By-the-by, major, 
that reminds me — do me the favour to come to the window. 
Excuse us one moment, Mr. Newland.” 

The major and Lady Maelstrom walked to the window, and 
e.xchanged a few sentences, and then returned. Her ladyship 
holding up her finger, and saying to him as they came towards 
me, “ Promise me now that you won’t forget.” 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


125 


“ Your ladyship’s slightest wishes are to me imperative com- 
mands,” replied the major, with a graceful bow. 

In a quarter of an hour, during which the conversation was 
animated, we rose to take our leave, when her ladyship came 
up to me, and offering her hand said, “ Mr. Newland, the 
friendship of Lord Windermear, and the introduction of Major 
Carbonnell, are more than sufficient to induce me to put your 
name down on my visiting list. I trust I shall see a great deal 
of you, and that we shall be great friends.” 

I bowed to this handsome announcement, and we retired. 
As soon as we were out in the square, the major observed, 

. “ You saw her take me on one side — it was to jpump. She has 
no daughters, but about fifty nieces, and match-making is her 
delight. 1 told her that I would stake my honour upon your 
possessing ten thousand a year ; how much more I could not 
say. I was not far wrong, was I ?” 

I laughed. “ What I may be worth, major, I really cannot 
say ; but I trust that the event will prove that you are not 
far wrong. Say no more,' my dear fellow.” 

“ I understand — you are not yet of age — of course, have not 
yet come into possession of your fortune.” 

“ That is exactly the case, major. I am now but little more 
than nineteen.” ^ 

You look older; but there is no getting over baptismal 
registries with the executors. Newland, you must content 
yourself for the two next years in playing Moses, and only peep 
at the promised land.” 

We made two or three more calls, and then returned to St. 
James’s Street. ‘‘ Where shall we go now ? By-the-by, don’t 
you want to go to your banker’s ?” 

“ I will just stroll down with you, and see if they have paid ’ 
any money in,” replied I, carelessly. 

We called at Drummond’s, and I asked them if there was any 
money paid in to the credit of Mr. Newland. 

“Yes, sir,” replied one of the clerks ; “ there is one thousand 
pounds paid in yesterday.” 


126 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ Yery good,” replied I. 

“ How much do you wish to draw for ?” inquired the major. 

“ I don’t want any,” replied I. ‘‘I have more money than .1 
ought to have in my desk at this moment.” 

“Well, then, let us go and order dinner ; or perhaps you 
would like to stroll about a little more : if so, I will go and 
order the dinner. Here’s Harcourt, that’s lucky. Harcourt, 
my dear fellow, know Mr. Newland, my very particular friend. 
I must leave you now ; take his arm, Harcourt, for half an hour, 
and then join us at dinner at the Piazza.” 

Mr. Harcourt was an elegant young man of about five-and- 
twenty. Equally pleased with each other’s externals, we were 
soon familiar : he was witty, sarcastic, a,nd well-bred. After 
half an hour’s conversation he asked me what I thought of the 
major. I looked him in the face and smiled. “ That look tells 
me that you will not be his dupe, otherwise I had warned you : 
he is a strange character ; but if you have money enough to 
afford to keep him, you cannot do better, as he is acquainted 
with, and received by, everybody. His connections are good ; 
and he once had a very handsome fortune, but it was soon run 
out, and he was obliged to sell his commission in the Guards. 
How he lives upon the world ; which, as Shakspeare says, is 
his oyster ; and he has wit and sharpness enough to open it. 
Moreover, he has some chance of falling into a peerage ; that 
prospect, and his amusing qualities, added to his being the 
most fashionable man about town, keeps his head above water. 
I believe Lord Windermear, who is his cousin, very often helps 
him.” 

“ It was Lord Windermear who introduced me to him,” ob- 
served I. 

^ “ Then he will not venture to play any tricks upon you, fur- 

ther than eating your dinners, borrowing your money, and for- 
getting to pay it.” 

“You must acknowledge,” said L “he always tells you be- 
forehand that he never will pay you.’' 

“ And that is the only point in which he adheres to his 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 121 

word,” replied Harcourt, laughing ; but, tell me, am I to be 
your guest to-day 

If you will do me that honour.” 

“ I assure you I am delighted to come, as I shall have a fur- 
ther opportunity of cultivating your acquaintance.” 

“ Then we had better bend our steps towards the hotel, for 
it is late,” replied I ; and we did so accordingly. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE REAL SIMON PURE PROVES THE WORSE OF THE TWO 1 AM FOUND 

GUILTY, BUT NOT CONDEMNED J CONVICTED, YET CONVINCE ; AND 
AFTER HAVING BEHAVED THE VERY CONTRARY TO, PROVE THAT I 
AM, A GENTLEMAN. 

On our arrival, we found the table spread, champagne in 
ice under the sideboard, and apparently every thing pre- 
pared for a sumptuous dinner, the major on the sofa giving 
directions to the waiter, and Timothy looking all astonishment. 

“ Major,” said I, “ I cannot tell you how much I am obliged 
to you for your kindness in taking all this trouble off my 
hands, that I might follow up the agreeable introduction you 
have given me to Mr. Harcourt.” 

“ My dear Newland, say no more ; you will, I dare say, do 
the same for me if I require it, when I give a dinner. (Har- 
court caught my eye, as if to say, ‘‘You may safely promise 
that.”) But, Xewland, do you know that the nephew of Lord 
Windermear has just arrived ? Did you meet abroad ?” 

“ Xo,” replied I, somewhat confused ; but I soon recovered 
myself. As for Tim, he bolted out of the room. “ What sort 
of a person is he ?” 

“ That you may judge for yourself, my dear fellow, for I 
asked him to join us, I must say, more out of compliment to 
Lord Windermear than anything else ; for I am afraid that 


128 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


even I could never make a gentleman of him. But take 
Harcourt with you to your room, and by the time you have 
washed your hands, I will have dinner on the table. I took 
the liberty of desiring . your valet to show me in about ten 
minutes ago. He’s a shrewd fellow that of yours — where did 
you pick him up ?” 

“ By mere accident,” replied I : “ come, Mr. Harcourt.” 

On our return, we found the real Simon Pure, Mr. Estcourt, 
sitting with the major, who introduced us, and dinner being 
served, we sat down to table. 

Mr. Estcourt was a young man, about my own age, but not 
so tall by two or three inches. His features were prominent, 
but harsh ; and when I saw him, I w^as not at all surj^rised at 
Lord Windermear’s exj^ressions of satisfaction, when he sup- 
posed that I was his nephew. His countenance was dogged and 
sullen, and he spoke little : he appeared to place an immense 
value upon birth, and hardly deigned to listen, except the 
aristocracy were the subject of discourse. I treated him with 
marked deference, that I might form an acquaintance, and 
found before we parted that night, that I had succeeded. Our 
dinner was excellent, and we were all, except Mr. Estcourt, in 
high good humour. We sat late — too late to go to the theatre, 
and promising to meet the next day at noon, Harcourt and the 
■ major took their leave. 

Mr. Estcourt had indulged rather too much, and, after their 
departure, became communicative. I plied the bottle, and we sat 
up for more than an hour ; he talked of nothing but his family 
and expectations. I took this opportunity of discovering what 
his feelings were likely to be when he was made acquainted with 
the important secret which was in my possession. I put a case 
somewhat similar, and asked him whether in such circumstances 
he would waive his right for a time, to save the honour of his 
family. 

“No, by G d 1” replied he, “I never would. vVliat I 

give up even for a day my right — conceal my true rani for the 
sake of relatives ? never — nothing would induce me.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


129 


I was satisfied, and then casnally asked him if he had written 
to Lord Windermear to inform him of his arrival. 

“ No,” replied he ; “I shall write to-morrow.” He soon 
after retired to his own apartment, and I rang for Timothy. 

“ Good heavens, sir,” cried Timothy, “ what is all this — and 
>rhat are you about ? I am frightened out of my wits. Why, 
sir. our money will not last two months.” 

I do not expect it will last much longer, Tim ; but it 
cannot be helped. Into society I must get — and to do so, must 
pay for it.” 

“ But, sir, putting the expense aside, what are we to do 
about this Mr. Estcourt ? All must be found out.” 

“ I intend that it shall be found out, Tim,” replied I ; “but 
not yet. He will write to his uncle to-morrow ; you must 
obtain the letter, for it must not go. I must first have time to 
establish myself, and then Lord Windermear may find out his 
error as soon as he pleases.” 

“ Upon my honour, Japhet, you appear to be afraid of 
nothing.” 

“ I fear nothing, Tim, when I am following up the object of 
my Tvishes. I will allow no obstacles to stand in my way, in 
my search after my father.” 

“ Heally, you seem to be quite mad on that point, Japhet.” 

“ Perhaps I may be, Tim,” replied I, thoughtfully. “ At all 
events, let us go to bed now, and I will tell you to-morrow 
morning, all the events of this day.” 

Mr. Estcourt wrote his letter, which Tim very officiously 
offered to put into the post, instead of which we put it between 
the bars of the grate. 

I must now pass over about three weeks, during which 1 
became very intimate with the major and Mr. Harcourt, and 
was introduced by them to the clubs, and almost every person 
of fashion. The idea of my wealth, and my very handsome 
person and figure, insured me a warm reception, and I soon 
became one of the stars of the day. During this time, I also 
gained the entire confidence of Mr. Estcourt, who put letter 

G* 


130 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

after letter into the hands of Timothy, who of course put tliem 
into the usual place. I pacified him as long as I could, by 
expressing my opinion, that his lordship was on a visit to some 
friends in the neighbourhood of his seat ; but at last, he would 
remain in town no longer. You may go now, thought I, I feel 
quite safe. 

It was about five days after his departure, as I was saunter- 
ing, arm in arm with. the major, who generally dined with me 
about five days in the week, that I perceived the carriage of 
Lord Windermear, with his lordship in it. He saw us, and 
pulling his check-string, alighted, and coming up to us, with the 
colour mounting to his forehead with emotion, returned the 
salute of the major and me. 

“ Major,” said he, “you will excuse me, but I am anxious to 
have some conversation with Mr. Newland : perhaps,” continued 
his lordship, addressing me, “ you will do me the favour to take a 
seat in my carriage ?” 

Fully prepared, I lost none of my self-possession, but, thank- 
ing his lordship, I bowed to him, and stepped in. His lordship 
followed, and, saying to the footman, “ Home — drive fast,” fell 
back in the carriage, and never uttered one word until we had 
arrived, and had entered the dining-parlour. He then took a 
few steps up and down, before he said, “ Mr. Newland, or what- 
ever your name may be, I perceive that you consider the pos- 
session of an important secret to be your safeguard. To state 
my opinion of your conduct is needless ; who you are, and what 
you are, I know not ; but,” continued he, no longer controlling 
his anger, “ you certainly can have no pretensions to the cha- 
racter of a gentleman.” 

“ Perhaps your lordship,” replied I, calmly, “ will inform me 
upon what you may ground your inference.” 

“ Did you not, in the first place, open a letter addressed to 
another ?” 

“ My lord, I opened a letter brought to me with the initials 
of my name, and at the time I opened it, I fully believed that it 
(Vas intended for me.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


131 


“We will grant that, sir ; but after you had opened it you 
must have known that it was for some other person.” 

“ J will not deny that, my lord.” 

“ Notwithstanding which, you apply to my lawyer, represent- 
ing yourself as another person, to obtain sealed papers.” 

“ I did, my lord ; but allow me to say, that I never should 
have done so, had I not been warned by a dream.” 

“ By a dream ?” 

“ Yes, my lord. I had determined not to go for them, when 
in a dream I was ordered so to do.” 

“Paltry excuse I and then you break private seals.” 

“ Nay, my lord, although I did go for the papers, I could not, 
even with the idea of supernatural interposition, make up my 
mind to break the seals. If your lordship will recollect, it was you 
who broke the seals, and insisted upon my reading the papers.” 

“Yes, sir, under your false name.” 

“It is the name by which I go at present, although I ac- 
knowledge it is false ; but that is not my fault — I have no other 
at present.” 

“It is very true, sir, that in all I have now mentioned the 
law will not reach you ; but recollect, that by assuming another 
person’s name ” 

“ I never did, my lord,” interrupted I. 

“ Well, I may say, by inducing me to believe that you were 
my nephew, you have obtained money under false pretences ; 
and for that I now have you in my power.” 

“ My lord, I never asked you for the money ; you yourself 
paid it into the banker’s hands to my credit, and to my own 
name. I appeal to you now, whether, if you so deceived your- 
self, the law can reach me ?” 

“ Mr. Newland, I will say, that much as I regret what has 
passed, I regret more than all the rest, that one so young, so 
prepossessing, so candid in appearance, should prove such an 
adept in deceit. Thinking you were my nephew, my heart 
warmed towards you ; and I must confess, that since I have 
?een ray real nephew, the mortification has been very great.” 


J32 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ My lord, I thank you, but allow me to observe, that I am 
no swindler. Your thousand pounds you will find safe in the 
bank, for penury would not have induced me to touch it. But 
now that your lordship appears more cool, will you do me the 
favour to listen to me ? When you have heard my life up to 
the present, and my motives for what I have done, you svill 
then decide hov/ fur I am to blame.” 

II is lordship took a chair, and motioned to me to take 
another. I narrated what had occurred when I was left at the 
Foundling, and gave him a succinct account of my adventures 
subsequently — my determination to find my father — the dream 
which induced me to go for the papers — and all that the 
reader has already been acquainted with. His lordship evi- 
dently perceived the monomania which controlled me, and 
heard me with great attention. 

“ You certainly, Mr. Newland, do not stand so low in my 
opinion as you did before this explanation, and I must make 
allowances for the excitement under which I perceive you to 
labour on one subject ; but now, sir, allow me to put one 
question, and I beg that you will answer candidly. What 
price do you demand for your secrecy on this important 
subject?”. 

“ My lord !” replied I, rising with dignity ; “ this is the 
greatest affront you have put upon me as yet ; still I will name 
the price by which I will solemnly bind myself, by all my future 
hopes of finding my father in this world, and of finding an eter- 
nal Father in the next, and that price, my lord, is a return of 
your good opinion.” 

Ilis lordship also rose, and walked up and down the room 
with much agitation in his manner. “What am I to make of 
you, Mr. Newland ?” 

“ My lord, if I were a swindler, I should have taken your 
money ; if I had wished to avail myself of the secret, I might 
have escaped with all the documents, and made my own terms. 
I am, my lord, nothing more than an abandoned child, trying 
all he can to find his father.” My feelings overpowered me, 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


133 


and I burst into tears. As soon as I could recorer myself, 1 
addressed his lordship, who had been watching me in silence, 
and not without emotion. “ I have one thing more to say to 
you, my lord,” I then mentioned the conversation between Mr. 
Estcourt and myself, and pointed out the propriety of not 
making him a party to the important secret. 

His lordship allowed me to proceed without interruption, 
and after a few moments’ thought said, “I believe that you 
are right, Mr. Newland ; and I now begin to think that it was 
better that this secret should have been intrusted to you than 
to him. You have now conferred an obligation on me, and 
may command me. I believe you to be honest, but a little 
mad, and I beg your pardon for the pain which I have occa- 
sioned you.” 

“ My lord, I am more than satisfied.” 

“ Can I be of any assistance to you, Mr. Newland ?” 

“ If, my lord, you could at all assist me, or direct me in my 
search ” 

" There I am afraid I can be of little use ; but I will give 
you the means of prosecuting your search, and in so doing, I 
am doing but an act of justice, for in introducing you to Major 
Carbonnell, I am aware that I must have very much increased 
yon expenses. It was an error which must be repaired, and 
therefore, Mr. Newland, I beg you will consider the money at 
the bank as yours, and make use of it to enable you to obtain 
your ardent wish.” 

“ My lord ” 

“ I will not be denied, Mr. JSTewland ; and if you feel any 
delicacy on the subject, you may take it as a loan, to be repaid 
w'hen you find it convenient. Do not, for a moment, consider 
that it is given to you because you possess an important secret, 
for I will trust entirely to your honour on that score.” 

“ Indeed, my lord,” replied I, “ your kindness overwhelms 
ne, and I feci as if, in you, I had already alviost found a 
father. Excuse mo. my lord, but did your lordship ever— 
ever ” 


134 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“I know what you would say, my poor fellow : no, I never 
did. I never was blessed with children. Had I been, I should 
not have felt that I was disgraced by having one resembling 
you. Allow me to entreat you, Mr. Newland, that you do not 
suffer the mystery of your birth to weigh so heavily on your 
mind ; and now I wish you good morning, and if you think I 
can be useful to you, I beg that you will not fail to let me 
^ know.” 

“ May Heaven pour down blessings on your head,” replied I, 
kissing respectfully his lordship’s hand ; “ and may my father, 
when I find him, be as like unto you as possible.” I made nay 
obeisance, and quitted the house. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE MAJOR PREVENTS THE LANDLORD FROM IMPOSING ON ME, BOl I 

GAIN NOTHING BY HIS INTERFERENCE FOR ECONOMICAL REASONS 

I AGREE TO LIVE WITH HIM, THAT HE MAY LIVE ON ME. 

I RETURNED to the liotel, for my mind had been much agitated, 
and I wished for quiet, and the friendship of Timothy, as soon 
as I arrived I told him all that had passed. 

“'Indeed,” replied Timothy, “things do now wear a pleasant 
aspect ; for I am afraid, that without that thousand, we could 
not have carried on for a fortnight longer. The bill here is 
very heavy, and I’m sure the landlord wishes to see the colour 
of his money.” 

“ ITow much do you think we have left ? It is nigh time, 
Timothy, that we now make up our accounts, and arrange some 
plans for the future,” replied I. “ I have paid the jeweller and 
the tailor, by the advice of the major, who says, that you should 
always pay your first bills as soon as possible, and all your subse- 
quent bills as late as possible ; and if put off stnc du, so much 


JAPflET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 186 

the better. In fact, I owe very little now, but the bill here — ] 
will send for it to-night.” 

Here we were interrupted • by the entrance of the landlord 
“ 0, Mr. Wallace, you are the very person I wished to see ; let 
me have my bill, if you please.” 

" It’s not of the least consequence, sir,” replied he ; “ but if 
you wish it, I have posted down to yesterday,” and the landlord 
left the room. 

“ You were both of one mind, at all events,” said Timothy, 
laughing ; “ for he had the bill in his hand, and concealed it 
the moment you asked for it.” 

In about ten minutes the landlord re-appeared, and present- 
ing the bill upon a salver, made his bow and retired. I 
looked it over : it amounted to .£104 ; which, for little more 
than three weeks, was pretty well. Timothy shrugged up his 
shoulders, while I ran over the items. “I do not see that 
there is any thing to complain of, Tim,” observed I, when I 
came to the bottom of it ; “ but I do see that living here, with 
the major keeping me an open house, will never do. Let us 
see how much money we have left.” 

Tim brought the dressing-case in which our cash was deposited, 
and we found, that after paying the waiters, and a few small 
bids not yet liquidated, our whole stock was reduced to fifty 
ihiilings. 

Merciful Heaven I what an escape,” cried Timothy ; “ if 
it b&d not been for this new supply, what should we have 
done T' 

Yery badly, Timothy ; but the money is well spent, after 
all I have now entrance into the first circles. I can do with- 
out Major Carbonnell ; at all events, I shall quit this hotel, and 
take furnished apartments, and live at the clubs. I know how 
to put him off.” 

I laid the money on the salver, and desired Timothy to ring 
for the landlord, when who should come up but the major and 
Harccurt. “ Why, Newland ! what are you goiug to do with 
that money ?” said the major. 


136 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ I am paying my bill, major.” 

“ Paying your bill, indeed ; let us see — i01O4. 0 this is o 

confounded imposition. You mustn’t pay this.” At this mo- 
ment the landlord entered, “ Mr. Wallace,” said the major, 
my friend Mr. Newland was about, as you may see, to pay 
you the whole of your demand ; but allow me to observe, that 
being my very particular friend, and the Piazza having - been 
particularly recommended by me, I do think that your charges 
are ‘somewhat exorbitant. I shall certainly advise Mr. New- 
land to leave the house to-morrow, if you are not more reason- 
able” 

“ Allow me to observe, major, that my reason for sending for 
my bill, was to pay it before I went into the country, which I 
must do to-morrow, for a few days.” 

“ Then I shall certainly recommend Mr. Newland not to 
come. here when he returns, Mr. Wallace j for I hold myself, 
to a certain degree, after the many dinners we have ordered 
here, and of which I have partaken, as I may say, particep^ 
criminis, or in other words, as having been a party to this extor- 
tion. Indeed, Mr. Wallace, some reduction must be made, or 
you will greatly hurt the credit of your house.” 

Mr. Wallace declared, that really he had made nothing but 
the usual charges, that he would look over the bill ngain, and 
see what he could do. 

“ My dear Newland,” said the major, “ I have ordered your 
dinners, allow me to settle your bill. Now, Mr. Wallace, sup- 
pose we take off om-tkird ?” 

“ OnQ-third^ Major Carbonnell I I should be a loser.” 

“ I am not exactly of your opinion ; but let me see — now 
take you| choice. Take off 20Z., or you lose my patronage, and 
that of all my friends. Yes or no ?” 

The landlord, with some expostulation, at last consented ; he 
receipted the bill, and leaving 20Z. of the money on the salver, 
made his bow, and retired. 

“ Rather fortunate that I slipped in, my dear Newland; now 
there are 20/. saved. By-the-bye, I’m short of cash. You’ve 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


137 


no objection to let me have this ? I shall never pay you 
you know.” 

“ I do know you never will pay me, major ; nevertheless, as 1 
should have paid it to the landlord had you not interfered, I 
will lend it to you ” 

“You are a good fellow, Newland,” said the major, pocket- 
ing the money “ If I had bon’owed it, and you had thought 
you would have had it repaid, I should not have thanked you, 
but as you lend it me with your eyes open, it is nothing more 
than a very delicate manner of obliging me, and I tell you can- 
didly that I will not forget it. So you really are off to- 
morrow ?” 

“ Yes,” replied [, “ ] must go ; for I find that I am not to 
make ducks and drakes of my money, until I come into posses- 
sioL of my property ” 

“ I see, my dear fellow. Executors are the very devil ; they 
ha^e no feeling. Never mind ; there’s a way of getting to 
windward of them. I dine with Harcourt, and he has come to 
ask you to join us.” 

“ With pleasure.” 

“ I shall expect you at seven, Newland,” said Harcourt, as 
he quitted the room with the major. 

“ Dear me, sir, how could you let that gentleman walk off 
with your money ?” cried Timothy. “ I was just rubbing my 
hands with the idea that we^ were 20Z. better off than we 
thought, and away it went, like smoke.” 

“ And will never come back again, Tim; but never mind that, 
it is important that I make a friend of him, and his friendship is 
only to be bought. I shall have value received. And now, Tim, 
we must pack up, for I leave this to-morrow morning. I shall 
go down to , and see little Fleta.” 

I dined with Harcourt. The major was rather curious to 
know what it was which appeared to flurry Lord Windermear, 
and what had passed between us. I told him that his lordship 
was displeased on money matters, but that all was right, only 
that I ra'ist be more careful for the future. “ Indeed, major, I 


138 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


think I shall take lodgings. I shall be more comfortable, ard 
better able to receive my friends.” 

Harcourt agreed with me, that it was a much better plan, 
when the major observed, “ Why, Newland, I have a room 
quite at your service ; suppose you come and live with me ?” - 

“ I am afraid I shall not save by that,” replied I, laughing, 
“ for you will not pay your share of the bills.” 

“ No, upon my honour I will not ; so T give you fair -warning; 
.but as I always dine with you when J do not dine elsewhere, it 
will be a saving to you — for you will save your lodgings, New- 
land ; and you know the house is my own, and I let off the rest 
of it so as far as that bill is concerned, you will be safe.” 

“ Make the best bargain you can, Newland,” said Harcourt : 
“ accept his offer ; for depend upon it, it will be a saving in the 
end.” 

“ It certainly deserves consideration,” replied I ; “ and the 
major’s company must be allowed to have its due weight in the 
scale ; if Carbonnell will promise to be a little more economi- 
cal ” 

I will, my dear fellow — I will act as your steward, and 
make your money last as long as I can, for my own sake, as 
well as yours. Is it a bargain ? I have plenty of room for 
your servant, and if he will assist me a little, I will discharge 
my own.” I then consented to the arrangement. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE MAJOR TEACHES ME HOW TO PLAY WHIST SO AS NEVER TO LOSE, 
WHICH IS BY PLAYING AGAINST EACH OTHER AND INTO EACH 
other’s HANDS. 

The next day I went to the banker’s, drew out 150^.. and Z 2 t 

off with Timothy for . Fleta threw herself into my 

arms, and sobbed with joy. When I told her Timothy was 


JAPHET, fN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


139 


'^atside, and wished to see her, she asked w^hy he did not come 
HI ; and, to show how much she had been accustomed to see, 
without making remarks, when he made his appearance in his 
livery, she did not, by her countenance, express the least sur- 
prise, nor, indeed, did she put any questions to me on the sub- 
iect. The lady who kept the school praised her very much for 
docility and atlention, and shortly after left the room. Fleta 
then took the chain from around her neck into her hand, and 
told me that she did recollect something about it, which was, 
that the lady whom she remembered, wore a long pair of ear- 
rings, of the same make and materials. She could not, how- 
ever, call to mind any thing else. I remained with the little 
girl for three hours, and then returned to London — taking my 
luggage from the hotel, and installed myself into the apart- 
ments of Major Carbonnell. 

The major adhered to his promise ; we certainly lived well, 
for he could not live otherwise ; but in every other point he 
was very careful not to add to expense. The season was now 
over, and every body of consequence quitted the metropolis. 
To remain in town would be to lose caste, and we had a con- 
ference where we should proceed. 

“ Newdand,” said the major, “you have created a sensation 
this season, which has done great honour to my patronage ; 
but I trust, next spring, that I shall see you form a good alli- 
ance ; for, believe me, out of the many heartless beings we have 
mingled with, there are still not only daughters, but mothers, 
who are not influenced by base and sordid views.” 

“ Why, Carbonnell, I never heard you venture upon so long 
a moral speech before.” 

“ True, Newland, and- it may be a long while before I do so 
again : the world is my oyster, which I must open, that I may 
live ; but recollect, I am only trying to recover my own, whicli 
the "world has swindled me out of. There was a time when I 
was even more disinterested, more confiding, and more innocent 
than you were when I first took you in hand. I suffered, and 
was ruinqd by my gcod qualities ; and I now live and do well 


140 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF 'A FATHER. 


by having discarded them. We must fight the world with !lS 
OAvn weapons ; but still, as I said before, there is some good in 
it, some pure ore amongst the dross ; and it is possible to find 
high rank and large fortune, and at the same time an innocent 
mind. If you do marry, I will try. hard but you shall possess 
both ; not that fortune can be of much consequence to you,” 

“ Depend upon it, Carbonnell, I never will marry without 
fortune.” 

“ I did not know that I had schooled you so well : be it so — 
it is but fair that you should expect it ; and it shall be an item 
in the match, if I have any thing to do with it.” 

“ But why are you so anxious that I should marry, Carbon- 
nell ?” 

“ Because I think you will, in all probability, avoid the 
gaming-table, which I should have taken you to myself had 
you been in possession of your fortune when I first knew you, 
and have had my share of your plucking ; but now I do know 
you, I have that affection for you that I think it better you 
should not lose your all ; for observe, Newland, my share of 
your spoliation would not be more than what I have, and may 
still receive, from you ; and if you marry and settle down, there 
will always be a gOod house and a good table for me, as long 
as I find favour with your wife ; and, at all events, a friend in 
need, that I feel convinced of. So now you have my reasons ; 
some smack of the disinterestedness of former days, others of 
my present worldliness ; you may believe which you please.” 
And the major laughed as he finished his speech. 

“ Carbonnell,” replied I, “ I will believe that the better feel- 
ings predominate— that the world has made you what you are; 
and that had you not been ruined by the world, you wDuld 
have been disinterested and generous; even now, your real na- 
ture often gains the ascendency, and I am sure that in all that 
you have done, which is not defensible, your poverty, ari no'; 
your will, has consented. Now, blunted by habit and time, 
the suggestions of conscience do not often give you any unei«s' 
ness.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


141 


‘You are very right, my dear fellow,” replied the major; 
“ and in having a better opinion of me than the world in gen- 
eral, yon do me, I trust, no more than justice. I will not 
squander your fortune, when you come to it, if I can help it; 
and you’ll allow that’s a very handsome promise on my part.” 

“ I’ll defy you to squander my fortune,” replied I, laughing. 

“Nay, don’t defy me, Newland, for if you do, you’ll put me 
on my mettle. Above all, don’t lay me a bet, for that will be 
still more dangerous. We have only spent about four hundred 
of the thousand since we have lived together, which I consider 
highly economical. What do you say, shall we go to Chelten- 
ham ? You will find plenty of Irish girls, looking out for hus- 
bands, who will give you a warm reception.” 

“ I hate your fortune and establishment hunters,” replied I. 

“ I grant that they are looking out for a good match, so arc 
all the world; but let me do them justice. Although, if you 
proposed, in three days they would accept you; yet once mar- 
ried, they make the very best wives in the world. But recol- 
lect, me must go somewhere, and I think Cheltenham is as 

good a place as any other. I do not mean for a wife, but 

it will suit my own views.” 

This last observation decided me, and in a few days we were 
at Cheltenham; and having made our appearance at the rooms, 
were soon in the vortex of society. “ Newland,” said Carbon- 
nell, “ I dare say you find time hang rather heavy in this mono- 
tonous place.” 

“Not at all,” replied I; “ what with dining out, dancing, 
and promenading, I do very well.” 

“ But we must do better. Tell me, are you a good hand at 
whist ?” 

“Not by any means. Indeed, I hardly know the game.” 

“ It is a fashionable and necessary accomplishment., I must 
make you master of it, and our mornings shall be dedicated to 
the work.” 

“ Agreed,” replied I; and from that day, every morning after 
ii!’(‘akfast till four o’clock, the major and I were shut up, play 


142 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


iiig two dummies under his instruction. Adejit as he was, i 
very soon learnt all the finesse and beauty of the game. 

“You will do now, Newland,” said the major one morning, 
tossing the cards away. “ Recollect, if you are asked to play, 
and I have agreed, do not refuse; but w^e must always play 
against each other.” 

“ I don’t see what we shall gain by that,” replied I; “ for if 
I win, you’ll lose.” 

“ Never do you mind that; only follow my injunctions, and 
play as high as they choose. We only stay here three weeks 
longer, and must make the most of our time.” 

I confess I w^as quite puzzled at what might be the major’s 
intentions; but that night we sauntered into the club. Not 
having made our appearance before, we were considered as new 
hands by those who did not know the major, and were immedi- 
ately requested to make up a game. “ Upon my word, gentle- 
men, in the first place, I play very badly,” replied the major; 
“ and in the next,” continued he, laughing, “ if I lose, I never 
shall pay you, for I’m cleaned out.” 

The way in which the major said this only excited a smile ; 
he was not believed, and I was also requested to take a hand. 
“ I’ll not play with the major,” observed I, “ for he plays badly, 
and has bad luck into the bargain ; I might as well lay my 
money down on the table.” 

This was agreed to by the other parties, and we sat down. 
The first rubber of short whist was won by the major and his 
partner : with the bets it amounted to eighteen pounds. I 
pulled out my purse to pay the major ; but he refused, saying, 
“No, Newland, pay my partner ; and with you, sir,” said he, 
addressing my partner, “ I will allow the debt to remain until 
we rise from the table. Newland, we are not going to let you 
off yet, I can tell you.” 

I paid my eighteen pounds,.and we recommenced. Although 
his partner did not perhaps observe it, for he was but an indif- 
ferent player, or if he did observe it, had the politeness not to 
say any thing, the major now played very badly. He lost three 


JAPHET, IN SE*4RCH OF A FATHER. 


143 


rubbers one after another, and, with bets and stakes, they 
amounted to one hundred and forty pounds. At the end of 
the last rubber he threw up the cards, exclaiming against his 
luck, and declaring that he would play no more. “ How are 
we now, sir said he to my partner. 

“You owed me, I think, eighteen pounds.” 

“ Eighteen from one hundred and forty, leaves one hundred 
and twenty-two pounds, which I now owe you. You must, I’m 
afraid, allow me to be your debtor,” continued the major, in a 
most insinuating manner. “ I did not come here with the 
intention of playing. I presume I shall find you here to-mor- 
row night.” 

The gentleman bowed, and appeared quite satisfied. Major 
Carbonnell’s partner paid me one hundred and forty pounds, 
which I put in my pocket-book, and we quitted the club. 


CHAPTER XXY. 

WE FUND OUR WINNINGS, AND CONSIDER TO REFUND, A WORK UF 

SUPEREROGATION IN LOOKING AFTER MY FATHER, I OBEY THE 

OLD ADAGE, “ FOLLOW YOUR NOSE.” 

As soon as we were in the street, I commenced an inquiry as 
to the major’s motives. “Not one word, my dear fellow, 
until we are at home,” replied he. As soon as we arrived, 
he threw himself in a chair, and crossing his legs, commenced : 
“You observe, Newland, that I am very careful that you 
should do nothing to injure your character. As for my own, 
all the honesty in the world will not redeem it ; nothing but a 
peerage will ever set me right again in this world, and a coronet 
will cover a multitude of sins. I have thought it my duty to 
add something to our finances, and intend to add very con- 
siderably to them afore we leave Cheltenham. You have won 
one hundred and twenty-eight pounds.” 


144 JAPHET, m SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“ Yes/' replied I ; “but you have lost it.” 

“ Granted ; but, as in most cases, I never mean to -pay my 
losses, you see that it must be a winning speculation as long as 
we play against each other.” 

“ I perceive,” replied I ; “ but am not I a confederate ?” 

“No ; you paid when you lost, and took your money when 
you won. Leave me to settle my own debts of honour.” 

“ But you will meet him again to-morrow night. . 

“ Yes, and I will tell you why. I never thought it possible 
that we could have met two such bad players at the club. We 
must now play against them, and we must win in the long run: 
by which meaDS I shall pay off the debt I owe him, and J’du 
will win and pocket money.” 

“Ah,” replied I, “if you mean to allow him a chance for his 
money, I have no objection — that will be all fair.” 

“Depend upon it, Newland, when I know that ‘people play 
as badly as they do, I will not refuse them ; but when we sit 
down with others, it must be as it was before — we must play 
against each other, and I shall owe the money. I told the 
fellow that I never would pay him.” 

“ Yes ; but he thought you were only joking.” 

“ That is his fault — I was in earnest. I could not have 
managed this, had it not been that you are known to be a 
young man of ten thousand pounds per annum, and supposed 
to be my dupe. I tell you so candidly ; and now good night.” 

I turned the alfair over in my mind as I undressed — it was 
not honest — but I paid when I lost, and I only took the money 
when I won, — still I did not like it; but the bank notes caught 
my eye as they lay on the table, and — I was satisfied. Alas ! 
how easy are scruples removed when we want money I How 
many are there who, when in a state of prosperity and affluence, 
when not tried by temptation, would have blushed at tliB bare 
idea of a dishonest action, have raised and held up their hands 
in abhorrence, when they have heard that others have been 
found guilty ; and yet, when in adversity, have themselves 
committed the very acts which before they so loudly condemned I 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH CF A FATHER 


145 


How many of the other sex, who have expressed their indigna- 
tion and contempt at those who have fallen, when tempted, 
have fallen themselves I Let us therefore be charitable ; none 
of us can tell to what we may be reduced by circumstances , 
and when we acknowledge that the error is great, let us feel 
sorrow and pity rather than indignation, and pray that we also 
may not he led info temptation^ 

As agreed upon, the next evening we repaired to the club, 
and found the two gentlemen ready to receive us. This time 
the major refused to play unless it was with me, as I had such 
good fortune, and no difficulty was made by our opponents. 
We sat down and played till four o’clock in the morning. At 
first, notwithstanding our good play, fortune favoured our 
adversaries ; but the luck soon changed, and the result of the 
evening was, that the major had a balance in his favour of 
forty pounds, and I rose a winner of one hundred and seventy- 
one pounds, so that in two nights we had won three hundred 
and forty-two pounds. For nearly three weeks this continued, 
the major not paying when not convenient, and we quitted 
Cheltenham with about eight hundred pounds in our pockets ; 
the major having paid about one hundred and twenty pounds 
to different people who frequented the club ; but they were 
Irishmen, who were not to be trifled with. I proposed to the 
.major that we should pay those debts, there still woiild be a 
large surplus : he replied, “ Give me the money.” I did so. 
“ Now,” continued he, ‘^so far your scruples are removed, as 
you will have been strictly honest ; but, my dear fellow, if you 
knew how many debts of this sort are due to me, of which I 
never did touch one farthing, you would feel as % do-^.that it 
is excessively foolish to part with' money. I have them all 

booked here, and may some day pay when convenient ; 

but at present, most decidedly, it is not so.” The mhjor put 
the notes into his pocket, and the conversation was dropped. 

The next morning we had ordered our horses, when Timothy 
came up to me, and made a sign, as we were at breakfast, for 
me to come out. I followed him. 

7 


146 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“ Oil I sir, I could not help telling you, but there is a gentle^ 
man with ” 

. “With what replied I, hastily. 

“With your mst, sir, exactly — and in other respects very 
like you — just about the age your father should be.” 

“ Where is he, Timothy ?” replied I, all my feelings in 
“ search of my father” rushing into my mind. 

“ Down below, sir, about to set off in a post-chaise and four, 
now waiting at the door.” 

I ran down with my breakfast napkin in my hand, and has- 
tened to the portico of the hotel — he was in his carriage, and 
the porter was then shutting the door. I looked at him. He 
was, as Timothy said, xtry like me, indeed, the nose exact. I 
was breathless, and I continued to gaze. 

“ All right,” cried the ostler. 

“ I beg your pardon, sir, ” said I, addressing the gentle- 

man in the carriage, who perceiving a* napkin in my hand pro- 
bably took me for one of the waiters, for he replied very 
abruptly, “ I have remembered you ;” and pulling up the glass, 
away whirled the chariot, the nave of the hind wheel striking 
me a blow on the thigh which numbed it so, that it was with 
difficulty I could limp up to our apartments, when I threw my- 
self on the sofa in a state of madness and despair. 

“ Good heavens, Newland, what is the matter ?” cried the 
major. 

“ Matter,” replied I, faintly. “ I have seen my father.” 

“ Your father, Newland ? you must be mad. He was dead 
before you could recollect him — at least so you told me. How 
then, even if it were his ghost, could you have recognised 
him ?” 

The major’s remarks reminded me of the imprudence I had 
been guilty of. 

“ Major,” replied I, “ I believe I am very absurd ; but he was 
so like me, and I have so often longed after my father, so long 

wished to see him face to face — that I’m a great fool, 

that’s the fact.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


147 


“ You must go to the next world, my good fellow, to meet 
him face to face, that’s clear ; and I presume, upon a little con- 
sideration, you will feel inclined to postpone your journey. 
Very often in your sleep I have heard you talk about your 
father, and wondered why you should think so much about 
him.” 

“ I cannot help it,” replied I. “ From my earliest days my 
father has ever been in my thoughts.” 

“ I can only say, that very few sons are half so dutiful to 
their fathers’ memories — ^but finish your breakfast, and then we 
start for London.” 

I complied with his request as well as I could, and we were 
soon on our road. I fell into a reverie — my object was to again 
find out this person, and I quietly directed Timothy to ascer- 
tain from the post-boys the directions he gave at the last stage. 
The major perceiving me not inclined to talk, made but few ob- 
servations ; one, however struck me. “ Windermear,” said he, 
“ I recollect one day, when I was praising you, said carelessly^ 

‘ that you were a fine young man, but a little tete montee upon 
one point.’ I see now it must have been upon this.” I made no 
reply ; but it certainly, was a strange circumstance that the ma- 
jor never had any suspicion on this point, yet he certainly never 
had. We had once or twice talked over my affairs. I had led 
him to suppose that my father and mother died in my infancy, 
and that I should have had a large fortune when I came of age ; 
but this had been entirely by indirect replies, not by positive 
assertions ^ the fact was, that the major, who was an adept in 
all deceit, never had an idea that he could have been deceived 
by one so young, so prepossessing, and apparently so ingenuous 
as myself. He had, in fact, deceived himself. His ideas of my 
fortune arose entirely from my asking him whether he would 
have refused the name of Jajphet for ten thousand pounds per 
annum. Lord Windermear, after having introduced me, did 
not consider it at all necessary to acquaint the major with my 
real history, as it was imparted to him in confidence. He 
allowed matters to take their course, and me to work my own 


148 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

) 

way ill the world. Thus do the most cunning over-reach tliem* 
selves, and with their eyes open to any deceit on the part of 
others, prove quite blind when they deceive themselves. 

Timothy could not obtain any intelligence from the people of 
the inn at the last stage, except that the chariot had proceeded 
to London. We arrived late at night, and, much exhausted, I 
was glad to go to bed. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

IN FOLLOWING MY NOSE, I NARROWLY ESCAPED BEING NOSED BY 
A BEAK. 

And as I lay in my bed, thinking that I was now nearly twenty 
years old, and had not yet made any discovery, my heart sank 
within me. My monomania returned with redoubled force, and 
I resolved to renew my search with vigour. So I told Timothy 
the next morning, when he came into my room, but from him I 
received little consolation ; he advised me to look out for a 
good match in a rich wife, and leave .time to develope the 
mystery of my birth ; pointing out the little chance I ever had 
of success. 

Town was not full, the season had hardly commenced, and 
we had few invitations or visits to distract my thoughts from 
their object. My leg became so painful, that for a week I was 
on the sofa, Timothy every day going out to ascej’tain if he 
could find the person whom we had seen resembling me, and 
every evening returning without success. I became melancholy 
and nervous. Carbonnell could not imagine what was the 
matter wRh me. At last I was able to walk, and I sallied 
forth, perambulating, or rather running through street after 
street, looking into every carriage, so as to occasion surprise to 
the occupants, who believed me mad ; my dress and person 
were disordered, for I had become indifferent to it, and Timothy 
nimself believed that I was going out of my senses. 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


149 


At last, after we had been in town about five weeks, I saw 
the very object of my search, seated in a carriage, of a dark 
brown color, arms painted, in shades, so as not to be distin- 
guishable but at a neai approach ; his hat was off, and he sat 
upright and formally. “ That is he I” ejaculated I, and away 
I ran after the carriage. “It is the nose,” cried I, as I ran 
down the street, knocking every one to the right and left. I 
lost my hat, but fearful of losing sight of the carriage, I has- 
tened on, when I heard a cry of “ Stop him, stop him I” — 

“ Stop him,” cried I, also, referring to the gentleman in black 
in the carriage. 

“ That wonT do,” cried a man, seizing me by the collar ; “ I 
know a trick worth two of that.” 

“ Let me go,” roared I, struggling ;* but he only hetd me the . 
faster. I tussled with the man until my coat and shirt were 
torn, but in vain ; the crowd now assembled, and I was fast. 
The fact was, that a pickpocket had been exercising his voca- 
tion at the time that I was running past, and from my haste, 
and loss of my hat, I was supposed to be the criminal.* The 
police took charge of me— I pleaded innocence in vain, and 1 
was dragged before the magistrate at Marlborough Street. My 
appearance, the disorder of my dress, my coat and shirt in 
* ribands, with no hat, were certainly not at all in my favour, 
when I made my appearance, led in by two Bow Street officers. 

“ Whom have we here ?” inquired the magistrate. 

“ A pickpocket, sir,” replied they. 

“ Ah I one of the swell mob,” replied he. “ Are there any 
witnesses ?” 

“ Y'es, sir,” replied a young man, coming forward. “ I was 
walking up Bond Street, when I felt a tug at my pocket, and 
when I turned round, this chap was running away.” 

“ Can you swear to his person ?” 

There were plenty to swear that I was the person who ran 
away. 

“ Now, sir, have you any thing to offer in your defence ?” 
said the magistrate. 


150 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“ Yes, sir,” replied I ; “ I certainly was running down the 
street ; and it may be, for all I know or care, that this personas 
pocket may have been picked — but I did not pick it. I am a 
gentleman.” 

“All your fraternity lay claim to gentility,” replied the 
magistrate ; “ perhaps you will state why you were running 
down the street.” 

“I was running after a carriage, sm, that ! might speak to 
the person inside of it.” 

“ Pray who was the person inside 

“ I do not know, sir.” 

“ Why should you run after a person you do not know ?” 

“It was because of his wose.” 

“ His nose ?” replied the magistrate angrily. “ Do you think 
to trifle with me, sir ? You shall now follow your own nose tc 
prison. Make out his committal.” 

“As you please, sir,” replied I ; “but still I have told you 
the truth ; if you will allow any one to take a note, I will soon 
prove^my respectability. I ask it in common justice.” 

“ Be it so,*’^ replied the magistrate ; “let him sit down within 
the bar till the answer comes.” 

In less than an hour, my note to Major Carbonnell was 
answered by his appearance in person, followed by Timothy. 
Carbonnell walked up to the magistrate, while Timothy asked 
the officers in an angry tone, what they had been doing to his 
master. This rather startled them, but both they and the magis- 
trate were much surprised when the major asserted that I was 
his most particular friend, Mr. Newland, who possessed ten 
thousand pounds per annum, and who was as well known in 
fashionable society as any young man of fortune about town. 
The magistrate explained what had passed, and asked the major 
if I was not a little deranged ; but the major, who perceived 
what was the cause of my strange behaviour, told him that 
somebody had insulted me, and that I was very anxious tc 
lay hold of the person who had avoided me, and who must 
have been in that carriage. 


JAPHET, IN SEAUCn OF A FATHER. 


15l 


“ I am afraid, that after your explanation, Major Carbon- 
nell, I must, as a magistrate, bind over your friend, Mr. New- 
land, to keep the peace.” 

To this I consented, the major and Timothy being taken as 
recognisances, and then I was permitted to depart. The major 
sent for a hackney coach ; and when we were going home he 
pointed out to me the folly of my conduct, and received my 
promise to be more careful for the future. Thus did this affair 
end, and for a short time I was more careful in my appearance, 
and not so very anxious to look into carriages ; still, however, 
the idea haunted me, and I was often very melancholy. It 
was about a month afterwards, that I was sauntering with the 
major, who now considered me to be insane upon that point, 
and who would seldom allow me to go out without him, when 
I again perceived the same carriage, with the gentleman inside 
as before. 

“ There he is, major,” cried I. 

There is who ?” replied he. 

“ The man so like my father.” 

“ What, in that carriage ? that is the Bishop of E — my 
good fellow. What a strange idea you have in your head, 
Kewland ; it almost amounts to madness. Do not be staring 
in that way — come along.” 

Still my head was turned quite round, looking at the carriage 
after it had passed, till it was out of sight ; but I knew who 
the party was, and for the time I was satisfied, as I determined 
to find out his address, and call upon him. I narrated to 
Timothy what had occurred, and referring to the Red Book, I 
looked out the bishop’s town address ; and the next day, after 
breakfast, having arranged my toilet with the utmost precision, 
I made an excuse to the major, and set off to Portland Place 


152 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


CHAPTER XXTIL 

A CHAPTER OF MISTAKES NO BENEFIT OF CLERGY — I ATTACK A 

BISHOP, AND AM BEATEN OFF THE MAJOR HEDGES UPON THE 

FILLY STAKES.. 

My hand trembled as I knocked at the door. It was opened. 
I sent in my card, requesting the honour of an audience with 
his lordship. After waiting a few minutes in an ante-room I 
was ushered in. “ My lord,” said I, in a flurried manner, “ will 
you allow me to have a few minutes^ conversation with you 
alone.” 

“ This gentleman is my secretary, sir, but if you wish it, 
certainly ; for although he is my confidant, I have no right to 
insist that he shall be yours. Mr. Temple will you oblige mo 
by going up stairs, for a little while.” 

The secretary quitted the room, the bishop pointed to a 
chair, and I sat down. I looked him earnestly in the face — the 
nose w^s exact, and I imagined that even in the other features I 
could distinguish a resemblance. I was satisfied that I had at 
last gained the object of my search. “ I believe, sir,” observed 
I, “ that you will acknowledge, that in the heat and impetuosity 
of youth, we often rush into hasty and improvident connections.” 

I paused, with my eyes fixed upon his. “ Very true, my 
young sir ; and when we do we are ashamed, and repent of 
them afterwards,” replied the bishop, rather astonished. 

“ I grant that, sir,” replied*!; “ but at the same time, we must 
feel that we must abide by the results, however unpleasant.” 

“When we do wrong, Mr. Newland,” replied the bishop, 
first looking at my card, and then upon me, “ we find that 
we are not only to' be punished in the next world, but suffer for 
it also in this. I trust you have no reason for such suffering ?” 

“ Unfortunately, the sins of the fathers are visited upon the 
children, and, in that view, I may say that I have suffered.” 

“ My dear sir,” replied the bishop, “ T trust you will excuse 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


15S 


me, when I say that my time is rather valuable ; if you have 
any thing of importance to communicate — any thing upon which 
you would ask my advice — for assistance you do not appear to 
require, do me the favour to proceed at once to the point.” 

“ I will, sir, be as concise as the matter will admit of. Allow 
me, then, to ask you a few questions, and I trust to your honour, 
and the dignity of your profession, for a candid answer. Did 
you not marry a young woman early in life ? and were you not 
very much pressed in your circumstances ?” 

The bishop stared. “ Really, Mr. Newland, it is a strange 
question, and I cannot imagine to what it may lead, but still I 
will answer it. I did marry early in life, and I was, at that 
time, not in very affluent circumstances.” 

“ You had a child by that marriage — your eldest born — a 
boy I” 

“That is also true, Mr. Newland,” replied the* bishop, 
gravely. 

“ How long is it since you have seen him ?” 

“ It is many years,” replied the bishop, putting his handker- 
chief up to his eyes. 

“ Answer me, now, sir ; — did you not desert him ?” 

“ No, no I” replied the bishop. “ It is strange that you 
should appear to know so much about the matter Mr. Newland, 
as you could have hardly been born. I was poor then — very 
poor; but although I could ill afford it, he had fifty poimds from 
me.” 

“ But, sir,” replied I, much agitated ? “ why have you not 
reclaimed him ?” 

“ I would have reclaimed him, Mr. Newland — but what 
could I do — he was not to be reclaimed ; and now — ^he is lost 
for ever.” 

“ Surely, sir, in your present affluence, you must wish to see 
him again ?” 

“ He died, and I trust he has gone to heaven,” replied the 
bishop, covering up his face. 

“No, sir,” replied I, throwing myself on my knees before 


154 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


him, “ he did not die, here he is at your feet, to ask youi 
blessing.” 

The bishop sprang from his chair. “ What does this mean, 
sir ?” said he, with astonishment, “ You my son ?” 

“ Yes, reverend father — your son ; who with fifty pounds 
you left — ” 

“ On the top of the Portsmouth coach I” 

“No, sir, in the basket” 

“ My son I sir, — ^impossible ; he died in the hospital.” 

“No, sir, he has come out of the hospital” replied I ; “ and, 
as you perceive, safe and well.” 

“ Either, sir, this must be some strange mistake, or you must 
be trifling with me,” replied his lordship ; “ for, sir, I was at 
his death-bed, and followed him to his grave.” 

“Are you sure of that, sir?” replied I, starting up with 
amazenfent. 

“ I wish that I was not, sir — for I am now childless ; but 
pray, sir, who, and what are you, who know so much of 
my former life, and who would have thus imposed upon 
me ?” 

“ Imposed upon you, sir I” replied I, perceiving that I was 
in error. “ Alas I I would do no such thing. Who am I ? 
I am a young man who is in search of his father. Your face, 
and especially your nose, so resembled mine, that I made sure 
that I had succeeded. Pity me, sir — pity me,” continued I, 
covering up my face with my hands. 

The bishop, perceiving that there was little of the impostor 
in my appearance, and that I was much affected, allowed a 
short time for me to recover myself, and then entered into an 
explanation. When a curate, he had had an only son, very 
wild, who would go to sea in spite of his remonstrances. He 
saw him depart by the Portsmouth coach, and gave him the 
sum mentioned. His son received a mortal wound in action, 
and was sent to the Plymouth hospital, where he died. I then 
entered into my explanation in a few concise sentences, and 
with a heart beating with disappointment, took my leave. The 


OAPHET IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


155 


bishop shook hands with me as I quitted the room, and wished 
me better success at my next application. 

I went home almost in despair. Timothy consoled me as 
well as he could, and advised me to go as much as possible 
into society, as the most likely chance of obtaining my wish, 
not that he considered there was any chance, but he thought 
that amusement would restore me to my usual spirits. “I will 
go and visit little Fleta,” replied I, “for a few days ; the sight 
of her will do me more good than anything else.” And the 

next day I set off for the town of , where I found the 

dear little girl, much grown and much improved. I remained 
with her for a week, walking with her in the country, amusing 
her, and amused myself with our conversation. At the close 
of the week I bade her farewell, and returned to the major’s 
lodgings. 

I was astonished to find him in deep mourning. “ My dear 
Carbonnell,” said I, inquiringly, “ I hope no severe loss ?” 

“ i^ay, my dear Newland, I should be a hypocrite if I said 
so ; for there never was a more merry mourner, and that’s the 

truth of it. Mr. M , who, you know, stood between me 

and the peerage, has been drowned in the Rhone ; I now have 
a squeak for it. His wife has one daughter, and is enceinte. 
Should the child prove a boy, I am done for, but if a girl, I 
must then come in to the barony, and fifteen thousand pounds 
per annum. However, I’ve hedged pretty handsomely.” 

“ How do you mean ?” 

“Why they say that when a woman commences with girls, 
she generally goes on, and the odds are two to one that Mrs. 
M — — has a girl. I have taken the odds at the clubs to the 
amount of fifteen thousand pounds ; so if it be a girl I shall 
have to pay that out of my fifteen thousand pounds per annum, 
as soon as I fall into it ; if it be a boy, and I am floored, I 
shall pocket thirty thousand pounds by way of consolation for 
the disappointment. They are all good men.” 

“Yes, but they know you nevef pay.” 

“ They know I never do now, because I have no money j 


156 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


but they know I will pay if I come into the estate ; and so 1 
will, most honourably, besides a few more thousands that I 
have in my book.” 

“ I congratulate you, with all my heart, major. How old if 
the present Lord B ?” 

“ I have just been examining the peerage — he is sixty-two ; 
but he is very fresh and hearty, and may live a long while 
yet. By-the-by, Newland, I committed a great error last nigh^ 
at the club. I played pretty high, and lost a great deal of 
money.” 

“ That is unfortunate.” 

“ That was not the error ; I actually paid all my losings, 
Newland, and it has reduced the stock amazingly, I lost seven 
hundred and fifty pounds. I know I ought not to have paid 
away your money ; but the fact was, as I was hedging, it 
would not do not to have paid, as I could not have made up 
my book as I wished. It is, however, only waiting a few 

weeks, till Mrs. M decides my fate, and then, either one 

way or the other, I shall have money enough. If your people 
won’t give you any more till you are of age, why we must 
send to a little friend of mine, that’s all, and you shall borrow 
for both of us.” 

“ Borrow I” replied I, not much liking the idea ; “ they will 
never lend me money.” 

“ Won’t they?” replied the major : “no fear of that. Your 
signature, and my introduction, will be quite sufficient.” 

“ We had better try to do without it, major ; I do not much 
like it.” • 

“ Well, if we can, we will ; but I have not fifty pounds left 
in my desk j how much have you ?” 

“ About twenty,” replied I, in despair at this intelligence ; 
“ but I think there is a small sum left at the banker’s ; I will 
go and see.” I took up my hat and set off to ascertain what 
funds we might have in store. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER, 


15T 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

I AM OVER HEAD AND EARS IN TROUBLE ABOUT A LADY’s EAR 

RINGS ; COMMIT MYSELF SADLY, AND AM VERY NEARLY COM 

MITTED. 

I MUST say, that I was much annoyed at this intelligence. The 
money-lenders would not be satisfied unless they knew where 
my estates were, and had examined the will at Doctors’ Com- 
mons ; then all would be exposed to the major, and I should 
be considered by him as an impostor. I walked down Pall 
Mall in a very unhappy mood, so deep in thought that I ran 
against a lady, who was stepping out of her carriage at a 
fashionable shop. She turned round, and I was making my 
best apologies to a very handsome woman, when her ear-rings 
caught my attention. They were of alternate coral and gold 
and the fac-simile in make to the chain given by Nattee to 
Fleta. During my last visit, I had often had the chain in my 
hand, and particularly marked the workmanship. To make 
more sure, I followed into the shop, and stood behind her, 
carefully examining them, as ^ she looked over a quantity of 
laces. There could be no doubt. I waited till the lady rose 
to go away, and then addressed the shopman, asking the lady’s 
name. He did not know — she was a stranger ; but perhaps 

Mr. H , the master, did, and he went back to answer the 

question. Mr. H being at that moment busy, the man 

stayed so long, that I heard the carriage drive off. Fearful 
of losing sight of the lady, I took to my heels, and ran out of 
the shop. My sudden flight from the counter, covered with 
lace, made them imagine that I had . stolen some, and they 
cried out, “ Stop thief,” as loud as they could, springing over 
the counter, and pursuing me as I pursued the carriage, which 
was driven at a rapid pace. 

A man perceiving me running, and others, without their hats, 
following, with the cries of “ Stop thief,” put cut his leg, and 


t 


158 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


I fell on the pavement, the blood rushing in torrents from my 
nose. I was seized, roughly handled, and again handed over 
to the police, who carried me before the same magistrate in 
Marlborough Street. 

“ What is this ?” demanded the magistrate. 

“ A shoplifter, your worship.” 

“ I am not, sir,” replied I ; “you know me well enough, I am 
Mr. Newland.” 

“ Mr. Newland I” replied the magistrate, suspiciously ; “ this 
is strange, a second time to appear before me upon such a 
charge.” 

“And just as innocent as before, sir.” 

“ You’ll excuse me, sir, but I must have my suspicions this 
time. Where is the evidence ?” 

The people of the shop then came forward, and stated what 
had occurred. “ Let him be searched,” said the magistrate. 

I was searched, but nothing was found upon me. “ Are you 
satisfied now, sir ?” inquired I. 

“ By no means. Let the people go back and look over their 
laces, and see if any are missing ; in the mean time I shall de- 
tain you, for it is very easy to get rid of a small article, such 
as lace, when you are caught.” 

The men went away, and I wrote a note to Major Carbon- 
nell, requesting his attendance. He arrived at the same time 
as the shopman, and I told him what had happened. The shop- 
man declared that the stock was not correct ; as far as they 
could judge, there were two pieces of lace missing. 

“ If so, I did not take them,” replied I. 

“ Upon my honour, Mr. ,” said the major, to the ma- 

gistrate, “ it is very hard for a gentleman to be treated in this 
manner. This is the second time that I have been sent for to 
vouch for his respectability.” 

“ Very true, sir,” replied the magistrate ; “ but allow me to 
ask Mr. Newland, as he calls himself, what induced him to fol 
low a lady into the shop ?” 

“ Her ear-rings,” replied I. 


JAPHET. IN search OF A FATHER. 


159 


“ Her car-rings I why, sir, the last time you were brought 
before me, you said it was after a gentleman’s nose — now it 
appears you W'cre attracted by a lady’s ears ; and pray, sir, 
what induced you to run out of the shop ?” 

“Because I wanted particularly to inquire about her ear 
rings, sir.” 

“ I cannot understand these paltry excuses ; there are, it ap* 
pears, two pieces of lace missing. I must remand you for fur- 
ther examination, sir ; and you also, sir,” said the magistrate, 
to Major Carbonnell ; “for if he is a swindler, you must be an 
accomplice.” 

“ Sir,” replied Major Carbonnell, sneeringly, “ you are cer- 
tainly a very good judge of a gentleman, when you happen 
by accident to be in his company. With your leave I will send 
a note to another confederate.” 

The major then wrote a note to Lord Wiudermear, which he 
despatched by Timothy, who, hearing I was iu trouble, had ac- 
companied the major. And while he was away, the major and 
I sat down, he giving himself all manner of airs, much to the 
annoyance of the magistrate, who at last threatened to com- 
mit him immediately. “You’ll repent this,” replied the major, 
who perceived Lord Windermear coming in. 

“ You shall repent it, sir, by God,” cried the magistrate, in a 
great passion. 

“ Put five shillings in the box for swearing, Mr. B . You 

fine other people,” said the major. “ Here is my other confede- 
rate, Lord Windermear.” 

“ Carbonnell,” said Lord Windermear, “ what is all this ?” 

“Nothing, my lord, except that our friend Newlaiid is taken 
up for shoplifting, because he thought proper to run after a 
pretty woman’s carriage ; and I am accused by his worship of 
being his confederate. I could forgive his suspicions of Mr. 
Newland in that plight ; but as for his taking me for one of the 
swell mob it proves a great deficiency of judgment ; perhaps he 
w-ill commit your lordship also, as he may not be aware that 
your lordship’s person is above caption.” 


160 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ I can assure you, sir,” said Lord Windermear, proudly, 
“ that this is my relative. Major Carbonnell, and the other is 
my friend, Mr. Newland. I will bail them for any sum you 
Dlease.” 

The magistrate felt astonished and annoyed, ‘for, after all, he 
had only done his duty. Before he could reply, a man came 
from the shop to say that the laces had been found all right. 
Lord Windermear then took me aside, and I narrated what had 
happened. He recollected the story of Fleta in my narrative 
of my life, and felt that I was right in trying to find out who 
the lady was. The magistrate now apologised for the detention, 
but explained to his lordship how I had before made my appear- 
ance upon another charge, and with a low bow we were dis- 
missed. 

“ My dear Mr. Newland,” said his lordship, “ I trust that 
this will be a warning to you, not to run after other people’s 
noses and ear-rings ; at the same time, I will certainly keep 
a look-out for those very ear-rings myself. Major, I wish you 
a good morning.” 

His lordship then shook us both by the hand, and saying 
that he should be glad to see more of me than he latterly 
had done, stepped into his carriage and drove off. 

“ What the devil did his lordship mean about ear-rings, New- 
land ?” inquired the major. 

“ I told him that I was examining the lady’s ear-rings as very 
remarkable,” replied I. 

“You appear to be able to deceive every body but me, my 
good fellow. I know that you were examining the lady her- 
self.” I left the major in his error, by making no reply. 


JAPHET, IN . SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


163 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

I BORROW MONEY UPON MY ESTATE, AND UPON VERY FAYOURABLK 
TERMS. 

When I came down to breakfast the next morning, the major 
said, “ My dear Newland, I have taken the liberty of request 
ing a very old friend of mine to come and meet you this 
morning. I will not disguise from you that it is Emmanuel, 
the money-lender. Money you must have until my affairs are 
decided, one way or the other ; and, in this instance, I will 
most faithfully repay the sum borrowed, as soon as I receive the 
amount of my bets, or am certain of succeeding to the title, 
which is one and the same thing.” 

I bit my lips, for I was not a little annoyed ; but what could 
be done ? I must have either confessed my real situation to 
the major, or have appeared to raise scruples, which, as the 
supposed heir to a large fortune, would have appeared to him 
to be very frivolous. I thought it better to let the affair take 
its chance. “ Well,” replied I, “ if it must be, it must be; but 
it shall be on my own terms.” 

“ Nay,” observed the major, “ there is no fear but that 
he will consent, and without any trouble.” 

After a moment^s reflection I went up stairs and rang for 
Timothy. “ Tim,” said I, “ hear me ; I now make you a 
solemn promise, on my honour as a gentleman, that I will never 
borrow money upon interest, and until you release me from it, I 
shall adhere to my word.” 

Very well, sir,” replied Timothy ; “ I guess your reason for 
?o doing, and I expect you will keep your word. Is that all 

“Yes ; now you may take up the urn.” 

We had finished our breakfast, when Timothy announced 
Mr. Emmanuel, who followed him into the room. “ Well, Old 
Cent, per Cent., how are you ?” sajd the major. “ Allow me to 
introduce my most particular friend, Mr. Newland.” 


IG2 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


‘‘ Auli I Master Major !” replied the descendant of Abra*' 
hara, a little puny creature, bent double with infirmity, and 
carrying one hand behind his back, as if to counter-balance 
the projection of his head and shoulders. “ You vash please to 
call me Shent. per Shent. I wish I vash able to make de 
monies pay that. Mr. Newland, can I be of any little shervice 
to you . 

“ Sit down, sit down, Emmanuel. You have my warrant for 
Mr. Newland’s respectability, and the sooner we get over the 
business the better.” 

“ Auh, Mr. Major, it ish true, you was recommend many 
good— no, not always good — customers to me, and I was very 
much obliged. Vat can I do for your handsome young friend ? 
De young gentlemen always vant money ; and it is de youth 
which is de time for de pleasure and enjoyment.” 

“ He wants a thousand pounds, Emmanuel.” 

Dat is a large sum — one thousand pounds ! he does not 
vant any more ?” 

Ko,” replied I, “ that will be suflicient.” 

“ Yel, den, I have de monish in my pocket. I will just beg 
de young gentleman to sign a little memorandum, dat I may 
von day receive my monish.” 

But what is tliat to be ?” interrupted I. 

“ It will be to promise to pay me my monish and only fifteen 
per shent., when you come into your own.” 

“ That will not do,” replied I ; “I have pledged my solemn 
word of honour, that I will not borrow money on interest.” 

“ And you have given de pledge, but you did not swear upon 
de book ?” 

“ Ko, but my word has been given, and that is enough ; if I 
would forfeit my word with those to whom I have given it, I 
would also forfeit my word with you. My keeping my promise, 
ought to be a pledge to you that I will keep my promise to you.” 

“ Dat is veil said — ^very well said ; but den we must manage 
some Oder way. Suppose — ^let me shee — how old are you, my 
young sir?” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 1(53 

“ Past twenty.” 

“ Auh, dat is a very pleasant age, dat twenty. Yell, den, 
you shall shign a leetle bit of paper, that you pay me £2000 
ven you come into your properties, on condition dat I pay now 
one tousand. Dat is very fair — ish it not Mr. Major 

“ Kather too hard, Emmanuel.” 

“ But de rishque — de rishque, Mr. Major.” 

“ I will not agree to those terms,” replied I ; “ you must 
take your money away, Mr. Emmanuel.” 

“ Yell, den — vat vill you pay me?” 

I will sign an agreement to pay you £1500 for the thou- 
sand, if you please ; if that will not suit you, I will try else- 
where.” 

“ Dat is very bad bargain. How old, you shay ?” 

“ Twenty.^ 

“Yell, I shuppose I must oblige you, and my very good 
friend, de major.” 

Mr. Emmanuel drew out his spectacles, pen, and ink-horn, 
filled up a bond, and handed it to me to sign. I read it care- 
fully over, and signed it ; he then paid down the money, and 
took his leave. 

It may appear strange to the reader that tlie money was 
obtained so easily, but he must remember that the major was 
considered a person who universally attached himself to young 
men of large fortune ; he had already been the means of 
throwing many profitable speculations into the hands of Em- 
manuel, and the latter put implicit confidence in him. The 
money-lenders also are always on the look-out for young men 
with large fortunes, and have their names registered. Emman- 
uel had long expected me to come to Tiim ; and although it was 
his intention to have examined more particularly, and not to 
have had the money prepared, yet my refusal to sign the bond, 
bearing interest, and my disputing the term;? of the second pro- 
posal, blinded him completely, and put him off his usual guard. 

“ Upon my Word, Newland, you obtained better terms than 
I could have expected from the old Hunks.” 


IG4 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“ Much better than I expected also, major,” j^eplied I ; but 
now, how much of the money would you like to have ?” 

“ My dear fellow, this is very handsome of you ; but, I thank 
Heaven, I shall be soon able to repay it ; but what pleases me, 
Hewland, is your perfect confidence in one, whom the rest of 
the world would not trust with a shilling. I will accept your 
offer as freely as it is made, and take ^500, just to make a 
show for the few weeks that I am in suspense, and then you 
will find, that, with all my faults, I am not deficient in grati- 
tude.” I divided the money with the major, and he shortly 
afterwards went out. 

“ Well, sir,” said Timothy, entering, full of curiosity, “ what 
have you done ?” 

“ I have borrowed a thousand to pay fifteen hundred when I 
come into my property.” 

“You are safe then. Excellent, and the Jew will be 
bit.” 

“No, Timothy, I intend to repay it as soon as I can.” 

“ I should like to know when that will be.” 

“So should I, Tim, for it must depend upon my finding out 
my parentage.” Heigho, thought I, when shall I ever find out 
who is my father ? 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE MAJOR IS VERY FORTUNATE AND VERY UNFORTUNATE HE 

RECEIVES A LARGE SUM IN GOLD AND ONE OUNCE OF LEAD. 

I DRESSED and went out, met Harcourt, dined with him, and on 
ray return the Major had not come home. It was then past 
midnight, and feeling little inclination to sleep, I remained in 
the drawing-room, waiting for his arrival. About three o’clock 
he came in, flushed in the face, and apparently in high good 
humour. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


165 


“ Newland,” said he, throwing his pocket-book on the table, 
‘just open that and then you will open your eyes.” 

I obeyed hiih, and to my surprise took out a bundle of bank- 
notes ; I counted up their value, and they amounted to 
^3,500. 

“You have been fortunate, indeed.” 

“Yes,” replied the major ; “knowing that in a short time I 
shall be certain of cash, one way or the other, I had resolved to 
try my luck with the iE500. I went to the hazard table, and 
threw in seventeen times — ^hedged upon the deuce ace, and 
threw out with it — voUa. They wonT catch me there again in 
a hurry — ^luck like that only comes once in a man’s life ; but, 
Japhet, there is a little drawback to all this. I shall require 
your kind attendance in two or three hours.” 

“ Why, what’s the matter ?” 

•“ Merely an affair of honour, I was insulted by a vagabond, 
and we meet at six o’clock.” 

. “ A vagabond — ^but surely, Carbonnell, you will not con- 
descend ” 

“My dear fellow, although as great a vagabond as there is 
on the face of the earth, yet he is a peer of the realm, and his 
title warrants the meeting — but, after all, what is it ?” 

“ I trust it will be nothing, Carbonnell, but still it may prove 
otherwise.” 

“ Granted : and what then, my dear Newland? we all owe 
Heaven a death, and if I am floored, why then I shall no longer 
be anxious about title or fortune.” 

“ It’s a bad way of settling a dispute,” replied I gravely. 

“There is no other, Newland. How would society.be held 
in check if it were not for duelling ? We should all be a set of 
bears living in a bear-garden. I presume you have never been 
out ?” 

“Never,” replied I, “and had hoped that I never should 
have.” 

“ Then you must have better fortune, or better temper than 
most others, if you pass through life without an affair of this 


106 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


kind on your hands. I mean as principal, not as second. But, 
my dear fellow, I must give you a little advice, relative to your 
behaviour as a second ; for I’m very particular on these occa- 
sions, and like that things should be done very correctly. It 
will never do, my dear Newland, that you appear on the ground 
with that melancholy face. I do not mean that you should 
laugh, or even smile, that would be equally out of character, bu* 
you should show yourself perfectly calm and indifferent. In your 
behaviour towards the other second, you must be most scrupu- 
lously polite, but, at the same time, never give up a point of 
dispute, in which my interest may be concerned. Even in your 
walk be slow, and move, as much as the ground will allow you, 
as if you were in a drawing-room. Never remain silent ; offer 
even trivial remarks, rather than appear distrait. There is one 
point of great importance — I refer to choosing the ground, in 
which, perhaps, you will require my unperceived assistance. 
Any decided line behind me would be very advantageous to my 
adversary, such as the trunk of a tree, post, &c. ; even an ele- 
vated light or dark ground behind me is unadvisable. Choose 
if you can, a broken light, as it affects the correctness of the 
aim ; but as you will not probably be able to manage this satis- 
factorily, I will assist you. When on the ground, after having 
divided the sun fairly between us, I will walk about uncon- 
cernedly, and when I perceive a judicious spot, I will to.ke a 
pinch of snuff and use my handkerchief, turning at the same 
time in the direction in which I wish my adversary to be placed. 
Take your cue from that, and with all suavity of manner, insist 
as much as you can upon our being so placed. That must be 
left to your own persuasive powers. I believe I have now 
stated all that is necessary, and I must prepare my instru- 
ments.” ’ 

The major then went into his own room, and I never felt 
more nervous or more unhinged than after this conversation. 
I had a melancholy foreboding, but that I believe every one 
has, when he, for the first time, has to assist at a mortal rencon- 
tre. I was in a deep musing when he returned with his pistols 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


167 


and all the necessary apparatus ; and when the major pointed 
out to me, and made me once or twice practice the setting of 
the hair triggers, which is the duty of the second, an involun- 
tary shudder came over me. 

“ Why, Newland, what is the matter with you ? I thought 
that you had more nerve.” 

“ I probably should show more, Carbonnell, were I the prin- 
cipal instead of the second, but I cannot bear the reflection 
that some accident should happen to you. You are the only 
one with whom I have been on terms of friendship, and the idea 
of losing you is very, very painful.” 

“ Newland, you really quite unman me, and you may now 
see a miracle,” continued Carbonnell, as he pressed his hand to 
his eye, the moisture of a tear on the cheek of a London 
rowe, a man of the world, who has long lived for himself and 
for this world only. It never would be credited if asserted. 
Newland, there was a time when I was like yourself — the world 
took advantage of my ingenuousness and inexperience ; my 
good feelings were the cause of my ruin, and then, by degrees, 
I became as callous and as hardened as the world himself. My 
dear fellow, I thought all affection, all sentiment, dried up 
within me, but it is not the case. You have made me feel that 
I have still a heart, and that I can lovz you. But this is all 
romance, and not fitted for the present time. It is now five 
O'clock, let us be on the ground early — it will give us an 
advantage.” 

“ I do not much like speaking to you on the subject. Carbon- 
nell ; but is there nothing that you might wish done in case of 
accident ?” 

“Nothing — why yes. I may as well. Give me a sheet of 
paper.” The major sat down and wrote for a few minutes. 
“Now send Timothy and another here. Timothy, and you, sir, 
see me sign this paper, and put my seal to it. I deliver this as 
my act and deed. Put your names as witnesses.” They com- 
plied with his request, and then the major desired Timothy to 
call a hackney-coach. “ Newland,” said the major, putting the 


168 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


paper, folded up, in my pocket, along witli the bank notes 
“ take care of this for me till we come back.” 

“ The coach is at the door, sir,” said Timothy, looking at me, 
as if to say, “ What can all this be about ?” 

“ You may come with us and see,” said the major, observing 
Tim’s countenance, “ and put that case into the coach.” Tim, 
who knew that it was the major’s case of pistols, appeared still 
more alarmed, and stood still without obeying the order. 

Never mind, Tim, your master is not the one who is to use 
them,” said the major, patting him on the shoulder. 

Timothy, relieved by this intelligence, went down stairs with 
the pistols ; we followed him. Tim mounted on the box, and 
we drove to Chalk Farm. “ Shall the coach wait inquired 
Timothy. 

“ Yes, by all means,” replied I, in a low voice. We arrived 
at the usual ground, where disputes of this kind were generally 
settled ; and the major took a survey of it with great composure. 

“Now observe, Japhet,” said he, if you can contrive ; 

but here they are. I will give you the notice agreed upon.” 
The peer, whose title was Lord Tineholme, now came up with 
his second, whom he introduced to me as Mr. Osborn. “ Mr. 
Newland,” replied the major, saluting Mr. Osborn in return. 
We both took off our hats, bowed, and then proceeded to our 
duty. I must do my adversary’s second the justice to say, that 
his politeness was fully equal to mine. There was no mention, 
on either side, of explanations and retractions — the insult was 
too gross, and the character of his lordship, as well as that of 
Major Carbonnell, was too well known. Twelve paces were 
proposed by Mr. Osborn, and agreed to by me — the pistols of 
Major Carbonnell were gained by drawing lots — we had 
nothing more to do than to place our principals. The major 
took out his snuff-box, took a pinch, and blew his nose, turning 
towards a copse of beech-trees. 

“With your permission, I will mark out the ground, Mr. 
Osborn,” said I, walking up to the major, and intending to pace 
twelve paces in the direction towards which he faced. 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


16 C 


“Allow me to observe that I think a little more in this 
direction would be more fair for both parties,” said Mr. 
Osborn. 

“It would so, my dear sir,” replied I; “but, submitting 
to your superior judgment, perhaps it may not have struck you 
that my principal will have rather too much of the sun. I am 
incapable of taking any advantage, but I should not do my 
duty if I did not see every justice done to the major, who has 
confided to me in this unpleasant affair. I put it to you, sir, 
as a gentle«ian and man of honour, whether I am claiming too 
much ?” A little amicable altercation took place on this point 
but finding that I would not yield, and that at every reply I 
was more and more polite and bland in my deportment, Mr. 
Osborn gave up the point. I walked the twelve paces, and Mr. 
Osborn placed his principal. I observed that Lord Tineholme 
did not appear pleased ; he expostulated with him, but it was 
then too late. The pistols had been already loaded — the choice 
was given to his lordship, and Major Carbonnell received the 
other from my hand, which actually trembled, while his was 
firm. I requested Mr. Osborn to drop the handkerchief, as I 
could not make up my mind to give a signal which might be 
fatal to the major. They fired— Lord Tineholme fell imme- 
diately — the major remained on his feet for a second or two, 
and then sank down on the ground. I hastened up to him. 
“ Where are you hurt ?” 

The major put his hand to his hip — “ I am hit hard, New- 
land, but not so hard as he is. Kun and see.” 

I left the major, and went up to where Lord Tineholme lay, 
his head raised on the knee of his second. 

“ It is all over with him, Mr. Newland, the ball has passed 
through his brain.” 


no 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE MAJOR PAYS THE ONLY DEBT OF CONSEQUENCE HE EVER DID 
PAY, AND I FIND MYSELF A MAN OF PROPERTY. 

[ HASTENED back to tlic majoT, to examine his wound, and, 
with the assistance of Timothy, I stripped him sufficiently to 
ascertain that the ball had entered his hip, and probing the 
wound with my finger, it appeared that it had glanced off in 
the direction of the intestines ; the suffusion of blood was very 
trifling, which alarmed me still more. 

“ Could you bear removal, major, in the coach 

“I cannot tell, but we must try : the sooner I am home the 
better, Japhet,’' replied he, faintly. 

With the assistance of Timothy, I put him into the hackney- 
coach, and we drove off, after I had taken off my hat and made 
my obeisance to Mr. Osborn, an effort of politeness which 1 
certainly should have neglected, had I not been reminded of it 
by my principal. We set off, and the major bore his journey 
very well, making no complaint ; but on our arrival he fainted 
as we lifted him out. As soon as he was on the bed, I 
despatched Timothy for a surgeon. On his arrival he examined 
the wound, and shook his head. Taking me into the next room, 
he declared his opinion, that the ball had passed into the intes- 
tines, which were severed, and that there was no hope. I sat 
down and covered up my face — the tears rolled down and 
trickled through my fingers — it was the first heavy blow I had 
yet received. Without kindred or connections, I felt that I 
was about to lose one who was dear to me. To another, not 
in my situation, it might have only produced a temporary grief 
at the near loss of a friend ; but to me, who was almost alone 
in the world, the loss was heavy in the extreme. AVhom had 
I to fly to for solace ? — there were Timothy and Pleta — one 
who performed the duty of a servant to me, and a child. I felt 
that they were not sufficient, and my heart was chilled. 


JAPHET, In search of a father. I’ll 

The surgeon had, in the mean time, returned to the major, 
and dressed the wound. The major, who had recovered from 
his weakness, asked him his candid opinion. “ We must hope 
for the best, sir,” replied the surgeon. 

“ That is to say, there is no hope,” replied the major ; “and 
I feel that you are right. Plow long do you think, that I may 
live ?” 

“ If the wound does not take a favourable turn, about forty- 
eight hours, sir,” replied the surgeon : “ but we must hope for 
a more fortunate issue.” ^ 

“In a dead-bed case you medical men are like lawyers,” 
replied the major, “ there is no getting a straightforward 
answer from you. Where is Mr. Newlaud ?” 

“ Here I am, Carbonnell,” said I, taking his hand. 

“ My dear fellow, I know it is all over with me, and you, of 
course, know it as well as I do. Do not think that it is 
a source of much regret to me to leave this rascally world — 
indeed it is not ; but I do feel sorry, very sorry, to leave you. 
The doctor tells me I shall live forty-eight hours ; but I have 
an idea that 1 shall not live so many minutes. I feel my 
strength gradually failing me. Depend upon it, my dear New- 
land, there is an internal hemorrhage. My dear fellow, I shall 
not be able to speak soon. I have left you my executor and 
sole heir. I wish there was more for you — it will last you, how- 
ever, till you come of age. That was a lucky hit last night, 
but a very unlucky one this morning. Bury me like a gentle- 
man.” 

“ My dear Carbonnell,” said I, “ would you not like to see 
somebody — a clergyman ?” 

“ Newland, excuse me. I do not refuse it out of disrespect, 
or because I do not believe in the tenets of Christianity ; but I 
cannot believe that my repentance at this late hour can be of 
any avail. If I have not been sorry for the life I have lived— • 
if I have not had my moments of remorse — if I have not pi'o- 
raised to amend, and intended to have so done, and I trust I 
liave— what avails ray repentance now ? No, no, Japhet, as I 


n2 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

) 

liave sown so must I reap, and trust to tlie mercy of Heaven, 
God only knows all our hearts; and I would fain believe that I 
may find more favour in the eyes of the Almighty, than I have 

in this world from those who but we must not judge. 

Give me to drink, Japhet — I am sinking fast. God bless you, 
my dear fellow.” 

The major sank on his pillow, after he had moistened his lips, 
and spoke no more. With his hand clasped in mine he gradu- 
ally sank, and in a quarter of an hour his eyes were fixed, and 
all was over. He was right in his conjectures — an artery had 
been divided, and he had bled to death. The surgeon came 
again just before he was dead, for I had sent for him. “ It is 
better as it is,” said he to me. “ Had he not bled to death, he 
ft^ould have suffered forty-eight hours of extreme agony from 
the mortification which must have ensued.” He closed the 
major’s eyes and took his leave, and I hastened into the drawing- 
room and sent for Timothy, with whom I sate in a long conver- 
sation on this unfortunate occurrence, and my future prospects. 

My grief for the death of the major was sincere ; much 
may indeed be ascribed to habit, from our long residence and 
companionship ; but more to the knowledge that the major, 
with all his faults, had redeeming qualities, and that the world 
had driven him to become what he had been. I had the further 
conviction, that he was attached to me, and in my situation, 
any thing like affection was most precious. His funeral was 
handsome, without being ostentatious, and I paid every demand 
upon him which I knew to be just — many, indeed, that were 
not sent in, from a supposition that any claim made would be 
useless. His debts were not much above JE200, and these debts 
had never been expected to be liquidated by those who had 
given him credit. The paper he had written, and had been 
witnessed by Timothy and another, was a short will, in which 
he left me his sole heir and executor. The whole of his pro- 
perty consisted of his house in St. James’s Street, the contents 
of his pocket-book intrusted to my care, and his personal 
effects, which, especially in bijouterie, were valuable. The house 


JAFHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


173 


was worth about £4,000, as he had told me. In his pocket- 
book were notes to the amount of £3,500, and his other effects 
might be valued at £400. With all -his debts and funeral ex- 
penses liquidated, and with my own money, I found myself in 
possession of about £8,000 — a sum which never could have 
been credited, for it was generally supposed that he died worth 
less than nothing, having lived for a long while upon a capital 
of a similar value. 

“ I cannot but say,” observed Timothy, “ that this is very 
fortunate. Had the major not persuaded you to borrow money, 
he never would have won so large a sum. Had he lived, he 
'would have squandered it away ; but just in the nick of time 
he is killed, and makes you his heir.” 

“ There is truth in your observation, Timothy ; but now you 
must go to Mr. Emmanuel, that I may pay him off. I will 
repay the £1,000 lent me by Lord Windermear into his 
banker’s, and then I must execute one part of the poor major’s 
will. He left his diamond solitaire as a memento to his lord- 
ship. Bring it to me, and I will call and present it.” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

A CHAPTER FULL OF MORALITY, WHICH ENDS IN A JEW REFUSING 
UPWARDS OF £1000, PROVING THE MILLENNIUM TO BE NEARLY 
AT HAND. 

This conversation took place the day after the funeral, and, 
attired in deep mourning, I called upon his lordship, and was 
admitted. His lordship had sent his carriage to attend the 
funeral, and was also in mourning when- he received me. I 
executed my commission, and after a long conversation with 
his lordship, in which I confided to him the contents of the 
will, ani the amount of property of the deceased, I rose to 
take my leave. 


JAPEET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


lU 


“Excuse me, Mr. Newland,” said he, “but what do you now 
propose to do ? I confess I feel a strong interest about you, 
and had wished that you had come to me oftener without an 
invitation. I perceive that you never will. Have you no 
intention of following up any pursuit ?” 

“ Yes, my lord, I intend to search after my father ; and J 
trust that, by husbanding my unexpected resources, I shall now 
be able.” 

“ You have the credit, in the fashionable world, of possessing 
a large fortune.” 

“ That is not my fault, my lord : it is through Major Car- 
bonnelPs mistake that the world is deceived. Still I must 
acknowledge myself so far participator, that I have never 
contradicted the report.” 

“Meaning, I presume, by some good match, to reap the 
advantage of the supposition.” 

“ Not so, my lord, I assure you. People may deceive them- 
selves, but I will not deceive them.” 

“Nor undeceive them, Mr. Newland ?” 

“Undeceive them I will not; nay, if I did make the attempt, 
I should not be believed. They never would believe it possible 
that I could have lived so long with your relative, without 
having had a large supply of money. They might believe 
. that I had run through my money, but not that I never had 
any.” 

“ There is a knowledge of the world in that remark,” replied 
his lordship ; “ but I interrupted you, so proceed.” 

“ I mean to observe, my lord, and you, by your knowledge 
of my previous history, can best judge how far I am warranted 
in saying so, that I have as yet steered the middle course 
between that which is dishonest and honest. If the world 
deceives itself, you would say that, in strict honesty, I ought 
to undeceive it. So I would, my lord, if it were not for my 
peculiar situation ; but at the same time I never will, if possi- 
ble, be guilty of direct deceit ; that is to say, I would not take 
advantage of my supposed wealth, to marry a young person of 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


175 


large fortune. I would state myself a beggar, and gain her 
affections as a beggar. A woman can have little confidence in 
a man who deceives her before marriage.” 

“ Your secret will always be safe with me, Mr, Newland; 
you have a right to demand it, I am glad to hear the senti- 
ments which you have expressed; they are not founded, perhaps, 
upon the strictest code of morality; but there are many who 
profess more who do not act up to so much. Still, I wish you 
would think in what way I may be able to serve you, for your 
life at present is useless and unprofitable, and may tend to warp 
still more ideas which are not quite so strict as they ought to 
be,” 

“ My lord, I have but one object in allowing the world to 
continue in their error relative to my means, which is, that it 
procures for me an entrance into that society in which I have 
a moral conviction that I shall find my father. I have but one 
pursuit, one end to attain, which is, to succeed in that search. 
I return you a thousand thanks for your kind expressions and 
good will; but I cannot, at present, avail myself of them. I 
beg your lordship’s pardon, but did you ever meet the lady 
A^ith the ear-rings ?” 

Lord Windermear smiled, “ Really, Mr. JS^ewland, you are 
4 very strange person; not content with finding out your own 
parents, you must also be searching after other people’s; not 
that I do not commend your conduct in this instance, but I’m 
afraid, in running after shadows you are too indifferent to the 
substance.” 

“ Ah, my lord ! it is very well for you to argue who have had 
a father and mother, and never felt the want of them; but if 
you knew how my heart yearns after my parents, you would 
not be surprised at my perseverance.” 

'‘I am surprised at nothing in this world, Mr. Newland; 
every one pursues happiness in his own way; your happiness 
appears to be centred in one feeling, and you are only acting as 
the world does in general ; but recollect that the search after 
happiness ends in disappointment.” 


176 JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 

“ I grant it but too often does, my'lord; but there is pleasure 
in the chase,” replied I. 

“ Well, go, and may you prosper. All I can say is this, Mr. 
Newland, do not have that false pride not to apply to me when 
you need assistance. Kecollect, it is much better to be under 
an obligation, if such you consider it, than to do that which is 
wrong; and that it is a very false pride which would blush to 
accept a favour, and yet not blush to do what it ought to be 
ashamed of. Promise me, Mr. Newland, that upon any reverse 
or exigence, you will apply to me.” 

“ I candidly acknowledge to your 'lordship, that I would 
rather be under an obligation to any one but you; and I trust 
you will clearly appreciate my feelings. I have taken the lib- 
erty of refunding the one thousand pounds you were so kind as 
to place at my disposal as a loan. At the same time I will 
promise, that if at any time I should require your assistance, I 
will again request leave to become your debtor.” I rose again 
to depart. 

“ Farewell, Newland; when I thought you had behaved ill, 
and I offered to better you, you only demanded my good opin- 
ion ; you have it, and have it so firmly, that it will not easily 
be shaken.” His lordship then shook hands with me, and I 
took my leave. 

On my return I found Emmanuel, the money-lender, who had 
accompanied Timothy, fancying that I was in want of more as- 
sistance, and but too willing to give it. His surprise was very 
great when I told him that I wished to repay the money I had 
borrowed. 

“ Yell, dis is very strange ! I have lent my monish a tou- 
sand times, and never once did they offer it me back. Yell, I 
will take it, sar.” 

“ But how much must I give you, Mr. Emmanuel, for the ten 
days’ loan ?” 

“How moch — vy you remember, you vill. give de bond 
money — de fifteen hundred.” 

“ What I five hundred pounds interest for ten days, Mr. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 177 

Emmanuel; no, no, that’s rather too bad. I will, if you please, 
pay you back eleven hundred pounds, and that, I think, is vei^ 
handsome.” 

“ I don’t want my monish, my good sar. I lend you one 
tousand pounds on de condition that you pay me fifteen hun- 
dred when you come into your properties, which vill be in very 
short time. You send for me, and tell me you vish to pay 
back de monish directly; I never refuse monish — if you vish 
to pay I vill take, but I vill not take von farding less dan de 
monish on de bond.” 

“Very well, Mr. Emmanuel, just as you please ; I offer you 
your money back, in presence of my servant, and one hundred 
pounds for the loan of it for ten days. Refuse it if you choose, 
but I earnestly recommend you to take it.” 

“ I will not have de monish, sar ; dis is the child’s play,” 
replied the Jew. “ I must have my fifteen hundred — all in goot 
time, sar — I am in no hurry — I vish you a very good morning, 
Mr. Newland. “Yen you vish for more monish to borrow, 1 
shall be happy to pay my respects.” So saying, the Jew 
walked out of the room, with his arm behind his back as usual. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

I DECIDE UPON HONESTY AS THE BEST POLICY, AND WHAT IS MORE 
STRANGE, RECEIVE “ LEGAL” ADVICE UPON THIS IMPORTANT POINT 

Timothy and I burst into laughter. “ Really, Timothy,” ob- 
served I, “it appears that very little art is necessary to 
deceive the world, for in every instance they will deceive them- 
selves. The Jew is off my conscience, at all events, and now 

he never will be paid, until ” 

“Until when, Japhet?” 

“ Until I find out my father,” replied I. 


178 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ Every thing is put off till that time arrives, I observe, 
said Timothy., “ Other people will soon be as interested in the 
search as yourself.” 

“ I wish they were ; unfortunately it is a secret, which 
cannot be divulged.” 

A ring at the bell called Timothy down stairs ; he returned 
with a letter ; it was from Lord Windermear, and ran as fol- 
lows : — 

“My dear Newland, 

“ I have been thinking about you ever since you left me 
this morning, and as you appear resolved to prosecute your 
search, it has occurred to me that you should go about it in a 
more systematic way. I do not mean to say that what I now 
propose will prove of any advantage to you, but still it may, as 
you will have a very old, and very clever head to advise with. 
I refer to Mr. Masterton, my legal adviser, from whom you had 
the papers which led to our first acquaintance. He is aware 
that you were (I beg your pardon) an impostor, as he has since 
seen Mr. Estcourt. The letter enclosed is for him, and with 
that in your hand you may face him boldly, and I have no 
doubt but that he will assist you all in his power, and put you 
to no expense. Narrate your whole history to him, and then 
you will hear what he may propose. He has many secrets, 
much more important than yours. Wishing you every success 
that your perseverance deserves, 

“ Believe me, 

“ Yours very truly, 

“ Windermear.” 

“ I believe the advice to be good,” said I, after reading the 
letter. “ I am myself at fault, and hardly know how to pro- 
ceed. I think I will go at once to the old gentleman, Timo- 
thy.” 

“ It can do no harm, if it does no good. Two heads are 
better than one,” replied Timothy. “ Some secrets are too well 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 179 

kept, and deserting a child is one of those which is confided 
but to few.” 

** By-the-by, Timothy, here have I been, more than so manj 
years out of the Foundling Hospital, and have never yet 
inquired if any one has ever been to reclaim me.” 

‘‘ Very true ; and I think I’ll step myself to the workhouse, 
at St. Bridget’s, and ask whether any one has asked about me,” 
replied Timothy, with a grin. 

“ There is another thing that I have neglected,” observed I, 
which is, to inquire at the address in Coleman Street, if there 
is any letter from Melchior.” 

“ I have often thought of him,” replied Timothy. ‘ I won- 
der who he can be — there is another mystery there. I wonder 
whether we shall ever fall in with him again — and Nattee, too ?” 

“ There’s no saying, Timothy. I wonder where that poor 
fool, Philotas, and our friend Jumbo, are now ?” 

The remembrance of the two last personages made us both 
burst out a laughing. 

“ Timothy, I’ve been reflecting that my intimacy with poor 
Carbonnell has rather hindered than assisted me in my search. 
He found me with a good appearance, and he has moulded me 
into a gentleman, so far as manners and appearance are con- 
cerned ; but the constant vortex in which I have been whirled 
in his company has prevented me from doing any thing. His 
melancholy death has perhaps been fortunate for me. It has 
left me more independent in circumstances, and more free. 
I must now really set to in earnest.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Japhet, but did not you say the same 
when we first set off on our travels, and yet remain more than a 
year with the gipsies ? Did not you make the same resolution 
when we arrived in town, with our pockets full of money, and 
yet, once into fashionable society, think but little, and occa- 
sionally, of it ? Now you make the same resolution, and how 
long will you keep it ?” 

“Nay, Timothy, that remark is hardly fair ; you know that 
the subject is ever in my thoughts.” - 


ISO 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ 1q your thoughts, I grant, very frequently ; but you have 
still been led away from the search.” 

“ I grant it, but I presume that arises from not knowing how 
to proceed. I have a skein to unravel, and cannot find out an 
end to commence with.” 

“ I always thought people commenced with the beginning,” 
replied Tim, laughing. 

“ At all events, I will now try back, and face the old lawyer. 
Do you call at Coleman Street, Tim, and at St. Bridget’s also, 
if you please.” . 

“ As for St. Bridget’s, I’m in no particular hurry about my 
mother ; if I stumble upon her I may pick her up, but I never 
make diligent search after wdiat, in every probability, wdll not 
be w'orth the finding.” 

Leaving Timothy to go his way, I walked to the liouse 
at Lincoln’s Inn, which I had before entered upon the memora- 
ble occasion of the papers of Estcourt. As before, I rang the 
bell, the door swung open, and I was once more in the presence 
of Mr. Masterton. 

“ I have a letter, sir,” said I, bowdng, and presenting the 
letter from Lord Windermear. 

The old gentleman peered at me through his spectacles. 
'• Why ! we have met before— bless me- — why you’re the rogue 
that ” 

“You are perfectly right, sir,” interrupted I. “I am the 
rogue who presented the letter from Lord Windermear, and 
wdio presents you with another from the same person ; do me 
the favour to read it, while I take a chair.” 

“ Upon my soul — you impudent — handsome dog, I must say 
— great pity — come for money, I suppose. Well, it’s a sad 
world,” muttered the lawyer as he broke open the letter of Lord 
W^indermear. 

I made no reply, but wmtched his countenance, which changed 
to that of an expression of surprise. “ Had his lordship sent 
me a request to have you hanged, if possible,” said Mr. Master- 
Ion, “ I should have felt no surprise ; but in this letter he 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 181 

praises you, and desires me to render you all the service in my 
power. I can^t understand it.” 

“No, sir ; but if you have leisure to listen to me, you 
will then find that, in this world, we may be deceived by 
appearances.” 

“ Well, and so I was, when I first saw you ; I never could 
have believed you to be — but never mind.” 

“ Perhaps, sir, in an hour or two you will again alter your 
opinion. Are you at leisure, or will you make an appointment 
for some future day ?” 

“ Mr. Newland, I am not at leisure — I never was more busy; 
and if you had come on any legal business, I should have put 
you off for three or four days, at least ; but my curiosity is so 
raised, that I am determined that I 'will indulge it at the 
expense of my interest. I will turn the key, and then you will 
oblige me by unravelling, what, at present, is to me as curious 
as it is wholly incomprehensible.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

I ATTEMPT TO PROFIT BY INTELLIGENCE I RECEIVE, AND THROW A 
LADY INTO HYSTERICS. 

In about three hours I had narrated the history of my life, up 
to the very day, almost as much detailed as it has been to the 
reader. “ And now, Mr. Masterton,” said I, as I wound up 
my narrative, “ do you think that I deserve the title of rogue, 
which you applied to me when I came in ?” 

“ Upon my word, Mr. Newland, I hardly know what to say; 
but I like to tell the truth. To say that you have been quite 
honest, would not be correct — a rogue, to a certain degree, 
you have been, but you have been the rogue of circumstances. 
I can only say this, that there are greater • rogues than you, 
whose characters are unblemished in the world — that most peo» 


182 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


pie in your peculiar situation would have been much greater 
rogues ; and, lastly, that rogue or not rogue, I have great 
pleasure in taking you by the hand, and will do all I possibly 
can to serve you — and that for your own sake. Your search 
after your parents I consider almost ^tantamount to a wild- 
goose chase ; but still, as your happiness depends upon it, I 
suppose it must be carried on ; but you must allow me time for 
reflection. I will consider what may be. the most judicious 
method of proceeding. Can you dine teU-a-tHe with me here 
on Friday, and we then will talk over the matter ?” 

“On Friday, sir ; I am afraid that I am engaged to Lady 
Maelstrom ; but that is of no consequence — I will write an 
excuse to her ladyship.” 

“ Lady Maelstrom I how very odd that you should bring up 
her name after our conversation.” 

“ Why so, my dear sir ?” 

“ Why I” replied Mr. Masterton, chuckling ; “ because — 
recollect, it is a secret, Mr. Newland — I remember some twenty 
years ago, when she was a girl of eighteen, before she married, 
she had a little faux pas, and I was called in about a settle- 
ment, for the maintenance of the child.” 

“ Is it possible, sir ?” replied I, anxiously. 

“Yes, she was violently attached to a young oflicer, without 
money, but of good family ; some say it was a private marriage, 
others, that he was — a rascal. It was all hushed up ; but he 
was obliged by the friends, before he left for the West Indies, 
to sign a deed of maintenance, and I was the party called in. 
I never heard any more about it. The oflBceFs name was 
Warrender : he died of the yellow fever, I believe, and after 
his death she married Lord Maelstrom.” 

“ He is dead, then ?” replied I, mournfully. ** 

“Well, that cannot affect you, my good fellow. On Fri- 
day, then, at six o’clock precisely. Good afternoon, Mr. New- 
land.” 

I shook hands with the old gentleman, and returned home, 
but my brain whirled with the fear of a confirmation, of that 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


183 


which Mr. Masterton had so carelessly conveyed. Any thing 
like a possibility, immediately was swelled to a certainty in my 
imagination, so ardent and heated on the one subject ; and as 
soon as I regained my room, I threw myself on the sofa, and 
fell into a deep reverie. I tried to approximate the features 
of Lady Maelstrom to mine, but all the ingenuity in the world 
could not effect that ; but still, I might be like my father — 
but my father was dead, and that threw a chill over the whole 
glowing picture which I had, as usual, conjured up ; besides, it 
was asserted that I was born in wedlock, and there wms a 
doubt relative to the marriage of her ladyship. 

After a long cogitation I jumped up, seized my hat, and set 
off for Grosvenor Square, determining to ask a private inter- 
view with her ladyship, and at once end my harassing doubts 
and surmises. I think there could not be a greater proof of 
my madness than my venturing to attack a lady of forty upon 
the irregularities of her youth, and to question her upon a sub- 
ject which had been confided but to two or three, and she 
imagined had been long forgotten : but this never struck me ; 
all considerations were levelled in my ardent pursuit. I walked 
through the streets at a rapid pace, the crowd passed by me 
as shadows, I neither saw nor distinguished them ; I was deep 
in reverie as to the best way of breaking the subject to her 
ladyship, for, notwithstanding my monomania, I perceived it to 
be a point of great delicacy. After having overturned about 
twenty people in my mad career, I arrived at the door and 
knocked. My heart beat almost as hard against my ribs with 
excitement. 

“ Is her ladyship at home 

“ Yes, sir.” ” 

I w^as ushered into the drawing-room, and found her sitting 
with two of her nieces, the Misses Fairfax. 

“ Mr. Newland,” you have been quite a stranger,” said her 
ladyship, as I walked up to her and made my obeisance. “ I 
did intend to scold you well ; but I suppose that sad affair of 
poor Major Carbonnell’s has been a heavy blow to you — 


184 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


you were so intimate — lived together, I believe, did you not ? 
However, you have not so much cause to regret, for he was not 
a very proper companion for young men like you : to tell you 
the truth, I consider it as a fortunate circumstance that he was 
removed, for he would, by degrees, have led you into all man- 
ner of mischief, and have persuaded you to squander your for- 
tune. I did at one time think of giving you a hint, but it was 
a delicate point. Now that he is gone, I tell you very candidly 
that you have had an escape. A young man like you, Mr. 
Newland, who could command an alliance into the highest, yes, 
the very highest families — and let me tell you, Mr. Newland, 
that there is nothing like connection — money is of no conse- 
quence to you, but connection, Mr. Newland, is what you should 
look for — connection with some high family, and then you will 
do well. I should like to see you settled — well settled, I mean, 
Mr. Newland. Now that you are rid of the major, who has 
ruined many young men in his time, I trust you will seriously 
think of settling down into a married man. Cecilia, my dear, 
show your tambour work to Mr. Newland,^and ask him his 
opinion. Is it not beautiful, Mr. Newland V’ 

“ Extremely beautiful, indeed, ma’am,” replied I, glad at last 
that her ladyship allowed me to speak a word. 

“ Emma, my dear, you look pale, you must go out into the 
air. Go, children, put your bonnets on and take a turn in the 
garden ; when the carriage comes round I will send for 
you.” 

The young ladies quitted the room. “ Nice, innocent girls, 
Mr. Newland ; but you are not partial to blondes, I believe ?” 

‘‘ Indeed, Lady Maelstrom, I infinitely prefer the blonde to 
the brunette.” 

“ That proves your taste, Mr. Newland. The Fairfaxes are 
of a very old family — Saxon, Mr. Newland. Fairfax is Saxon 
for light hair. Is it not remarkable that they should be blondes 
to this day ? Pure blood, Mr. Newland. You of course have 
heard of General Fairfax in the time of Cromwell. He was 
their direct ancestor — an excellent family and highly connected, 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 18f 

Mr. Newland. You are aware that they are my nieces. My 
sister married Mr. Fairfax.” 

I paid the Misses Fairfax the compliments which I thought 
they really deserved, for they were very pretty amiable girls, 
and required no puffing on the part of her ladyship ; and then 
I commenced. “ Your ladyship has expressed such kind wishes 
towards me, that I cannot be sufficiently grateful ; but, perhaps, 
your ladyship may think me romantic, I am resolved never to 
marry, except for love.” 

“ A very excellent resolve, Mr. Newland; there are few young 
men who care about love now-a-days, but I consider that love 
is a great security for happiness in the wedded state.” 

“ True, madam, and what can be more delightful than a first 
attachment ? I appeal to your ladyship, was not your first at- 
tachment the most delightful — are not the reminiscences the 
most lasting — do you not, even now, call to mind those halcyon 
days when love was all and every thing ?” 

“My days of romance are long past, Mr. Newland,” replied 
her ladyship ; “ indeed I never had much romance in my com- 
position. I married Lord Maelstrom for the connection, and 
I loved him pretty well, that is, soberly, Mr. Newland. I mean, 
I loved him quite enough to marry him, and to obey my parents, 
that is all.” 

“ But, my dear Lady Maelstrom, I did not refer to your 
marriage with his lordship ; I referred to your first love.” 

“My first love, Mr. Newland ; pray what do you mean ?” re- 
plied her ladyship, looking very hard at me. 

“ Your ladyship need not be ashamed of it. Our hearts are 
not in our own keeping, nor can we always control our passions. 
I have but to mention the name of Warrender.” 

“ Warrender I” shrieked her ladyship. “ Pray, Mr. New- 
land,” continued her ladyship, recovering herself, “ who gave 
you that piece of information ?” 

“ My dear Lady Maelstrom, pray do not be displeased with 
me, but I am very particularly interested in this affair. Your, 
love for Mr. Warrender, long before your marriage, is well 


186 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

known to me ; and it is to that love, to which I referred, when 
I asked you if it was not most delightful.” 

“ Well, Mr. Newland,” replied her ladyship, ‘‘how you have 
obtained the knowledge I know not, but there was, I acknow- 
ledge, a trifling flirtation with Edward Warrender and me — 
but I was young, very young at that time.” 

“ I grant it ; and do- not, for a moment, imagine that I in- 
tend to blame your ladyship ; but, as I before said, madam, I 
am much interested in the business.” 

“ What interest you can have with a little flirtation of mine, 
which took place before you were born, I cannot imagine, Mr. 
Newland.” 

“ It is because it took place before I was .born, that I feel so 
much interest.” 

“ I cannot understand you, Mr. Newland, and I think we 
had better change the subject.” 

“ Excuse me, madam, but I must request to continue it a 
little longer. Is Mr. Warrender dead or not ? Did he die iu 
the West Indies ?” 

“You appear to be very curious on this subject, Mr. New- 
land ; I hardly can tell. Yes, now I recollect, ne did die of 
the yellow fever, I think — but I have quite forgotten all about 
it — and I shall answer no more questions : if you were not a 
favourite of mine, Mr. Newland, I should say that you were 
very impertinent.” 

“ Then, your ladyship, I will put but one more question, and 
that one I must put with your permission.” 

“ I should think, after what I have said, Mr. Newland, that 
you might drop the subject.” 

“ I will, your ladyship, immediately ; but pardon me the 
question ” 

“ Well, Mr. Newland ?” 

“ Do not be angry with me ” 

“ Well ?” exclaimed her ladyship, who appeared alarmed. 

“ Nothing but the most important and imperative reasons 
could induce me to ask the question,” (her ladyship gasped fo> 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


187 


breath, and could not speak,) — I stammered, but at last I 
brought it out. “What has become of— of— of the sweet 
pledge of your love, Lady Maelstrom V* 

Her ladyship coloured up with rage, raised her clenched 
hand, and then fell back in violent hysterics. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

I REPAIR THE DAMAGE, AND MAKE THINGS WORSE PLOT AND COUN- 
PLOT TIM GAINS A WATCH BY SETTING WATCH UPON HIS TONGUE. 

I HARDLY knew how to act — if I called the servants, my inter- 
view would be at an end, and I was resolved to find out the 
truth — for the same reason, I did not like to ring for water. 
Some vases with flowers were on the table ; I took out the 
flowers, and threw the water in her face, but they had been in 
the water some time, and had discoloured it green. Her lady- 
ship’s dress was a high silk gown, of a bright slate colour, and 
was immediately spoiled ; but this was no time to stand upon 
trifles. I seized hold of a glass bottle, fancying, in my hurry, it 
was eau de cologne, or some essence, and poured a little into her 
mouth ; unfortunately it was a bottle of marking ink, which 
her ladyship, who was very economical, had on the table in dis- 
guise. I perceived my error, and had recourse to another vase 
of flowers, pouring a large quantity of the green water down 
her throat. AVhether the unusual remedies had an effect, or 
not, I cannot tell, but her ladyship gradually revived, and, as 
she leant back on the sofa, sobbing every now and then, con- 
vulsively, I poured into her ear a thousand apologies, until I " 
thought she was composed enough to listen to me. 

• “ Your ladyship’s maternal feelings,” said 1. 

“ It’s all a calumny I a base lie, sir I” shrieked she.” 

“Nay, nay, why be ashamed of a youthful passion; why 
deny what was in itself creditable to your unsophisticated mind 


188 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


Does not your heart, even now, yearn to embrace your son- - 
will not you bless me, if I bring him to your feet — will not you 
bless your son, and receive him with delight ?” 

It was a girl,” screamed her ladyship, forgetting herself, 
and again falling into hysterics. 

“ A girl !” replied I ; “ then I have lost my time, and it is no 
use my remaining here.” 

Mortified at the intelligence which overthrew my hopes and 
castle buildings, I seized my hat, descended the stairs, and quit- 
ted the house ; in my hurry and confusion quite forgetting to 
call the servants to her ladyship’s assistance. Fortunately I 
perceived the Misses Fairfax close to the iron railing of the gar- 
den. I ci^ossed the road, wished them good-by, and told them 
that I thought Lady Maelstrom looked very ill, and they had 
better go in to her. I then threw myself into the Grsi hack- 
ney-coach, and drove home. I found Timothy had arrived be- 
fore me, and I narrated all that had passed. 

“You will never be able to go there again,” observed Tiino- 
thy, “ and depend upon it, she will be your enemy through life. 
I wish you had not said any thing to her.” 

“ AVhat is done cannot be undone ; but recollect, that if 
she can talk, I can talk also.” 

“ Will she not be afraid ?” 

“Yes, openly, she will ; and open attacks can be parried.” 

“ Very true.” 

“ But it will be as well to pacify her, if I can. I will write 
to her.” I sat down and wrote as follows : 

“ My dear Lady Maelstrom : — 

“I am so astonished and alarmed at the situation I 
put you in, by my impertinence and folly, that I hardly know 
how to apologise. The fact is, that looking over some of my 
father’s old letters, I found many from Warrender, in which he 
spoke of an affair with a young lady, and I read the name as 
your maiden name, and also discovered where the offspring was 
to be found. On re-examination, for your innocence was too 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


189 


evident at our meeting to admit of a doubt, I find that the 
name, although something like yours, is spelt very differently, and 
that I must have been led into an unpardonable error. What 
can I say except that I throw myself on your mercy ? I dare 
not appear before you again. I leave town to-morrow ; but if 
you can pardon my folly and impertinence, and allow me to pay 
my respects when London is full again, and time shall have sof- 
tened down your just anger, write me one line to that effect, 
and you will relieve the burdened conscience of 
“ Yours most truly, 

“J. Newland.” 

“ There, Tim,” said I, as I finished reading it over, “ take 
that as a sop to the old Cerberus. She may think it prudent, as 
I have talked of letters, to believe me, and make friends. I will 
not trust her, nevertheless.” 

Tim went away, and very soon returned with an answer. 

“You are a foolish mad-cap, and I ought to shut my doors 
against you ; you have half killed me — spoilt my gown, and I 
am obliged to keep my bed. Kemember, in future, to be sure 
of the right name before you make an assertion. As for for- 
giving you, I shall think of it, and when you return to town, 
you may call and receive my sentence. Cecilia was quite 
frightened, poor dear girl : what a dear affectionate child she 
is I — she is a treasure to me, and I don’t think I ever could 
part with her. She sends her regards. 

“ Yours, 

“ C. Maelstrom.” 

“ Come, Timothy, at all events this is better than I expected — 
out now I’ll tell you what I propose to do. Harcourt was with 

me yesterday, and he wishes me to go down with him to . 

There will be the assizes, and the county ball, and a great deal 
of gaiety, and I have an idea that it is just as well to beat the 
county as the town, I dine with Mr. Masterton on Friday. Ou 


19G 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


Saturday I will go down and see Fleta, and on Tuesday or 
Wednesday I will start with Harcourt to his father’s, where he 
has promised me a hearty welcome. Was there any thing at 
Coleman Street ?” 

“ Yes, sir j Mr. Iving said that he had just received a letter 
from your correspondent, and that he wished to know if the 
little girl was well ; I told him that she was. Mr. Iving laid 
the letter down on the desk, and I read the postmark, Dub- 
lin.” 

“ Dublin,” replied I. “ I should like to find out who Mel- 
chior is — and so I will as soon as I can.” 

“ Well, sir, I have not finished my story. Mr. Iving said, 

* My correspondent wishes to know whether the education of 
the little girl is attended to ?’ ‘ Yes,’ replied I, ‘ it is.’ ‘ Is she 

at school V * Yes, she has been at school ever since we have 
been in Loudon.’ ‘ Where is she at school ?’ inquired he. Now, 
sir, as I never was asked that question by him before, I did not 
know whether I ought to give an answer, so I replied, ‘ that I 
did not know.’ ‘You know whether she is in London or not, 
do you not ?’ ‘ How should I ?’ replied I, ‘ master bad put her 

to school before I put on his liveries.’ ‘ Does he never go to see 
her ?’ inquired he. ‘ I suppose so,’ said I. * Then you really 
know nothing about it ? — then look you, my lad, I am anxious 
to find out where she is at school, and the name of the people, 
and if you will find out the direction for me, it will be money in 
your pocket, that’s all.’ ‘ Um,’ replied I, ‘ but how much ?’ 
‘ Why, more than you think for, my man, it will be a ten-pound 
note.’ * ‘ That alters the case,’ replied I ; ‘ now I think again, 
I have an idea that I do remember seeing her address on a 
l(itter my master wrote to her.’ ‘ Ay,’ replied Mr. Iving, ‘ it’s 
astonishing how money sharpens the memory. I’ll keep to 
my bargain ; give me the address, and here’s the ten-pound 
note.’ ‘ I’m afraid that my master will be angry,’ said I, as if 
I did not much like to tell him. ‘ Your master will never know 
any thing about it, and you may serve a long time before ho 
gives yon a ten-pound note above your wages.’ ‘ That’s very 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


191 


true/ said I, ‘sarvice is no inheritance. then, give me 

the money, and I’ll write it down.’ ” 

“ And did you give it ?” interrupted I. 

“ Stop a moment, sir, and you shall hear. I wrote down the 
address of that large school at Kensington, which we pass 
when we go to Mr. Aubrey White’s.” 

“ What that tremendous large board with yellow letters — 
Mrs. Let — what is it ?” 

“ Mrs. Lipscombe’s seminary — I always read the board every 
time I go up and down. I gave him the address. Miss John- 
son, at Mrs. Lipscombe’s seminary, Kensington. Well — and 
here’s the ten-pound note, sir, which I have fairly earned.” 

“ Fairly earned, Tim ?” 

“ Yes, fairly earned ; for it’s all fair to cheat those who would 
cheat you ” 

“ I cannot altogether agree with you on that point, Tim, but 
it certainly is no more than they deserve ; but this is matter 
for reflection. Why should Melchior wish to find out her 
address without my knowledge ? — depend upon it, there is 
something wrong.” 

“ That’s what I said to myself coming home ; and I made up 
my mind, that, for some reason or another, he wishes to regain 
possession of her.” 

“I entertain the same idea, Timothy, and I am glad you 
have disappointed him. I will take care that they shall not 
find her out, now that I am upon my guard.” 

“ But, sir, I wish to draw one good moral from this circum- 
stance ; which is, that if you had been served by any common 
footman, your interest would, in all probability, have been 
sacrificed to the ten-pound note ; and that not only in this 
instance, but in many others, I did a very wise thing in taking 
my present situation.” 

“ I am but too well aware of tlmt. Tim, my dear fellow,” said 
1, extending my hand, “ and depend upon it, that if I rise, you 
do. You know me well enough by this time.” 

“ Yes, I do Japhet, and had rather serve you than the first 


192 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


nobleman in the land. I am going to purchase a watch with 
this ten-pound note, and I never shall look at it without remem* 
bering the advantage of keeping a watch over my tongue.” 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

I FALL VERY MUCH IN LOVE WITH HONESTY, BECAUSE I FIND THAT 

IT IS WELL RECEIVED IN THE WORLD AND TO PROVE MY HONESTY, 

INFORM THE WHOLE WORLD THAT HONEST I HAVE NEVER BEEN. 

I PROVED the will of Major Carbonnell, in which there was no 
difficulty ; and then I sat down to consider in what way I 
might best husband my resources. The house was in good re- 
pair, and well furnished. At the time that I lived with the 
major, we had our drawing-room, and his bed-room, and another 
room equally large, used as hi^dressing-room, on the first floor. 
The second floor was appropriated to me, and the sitting-room 
was used as a dining-room when we dined at home, which was 
but seldom. The basement wms let as a shop, at one hundred 
pounds per annum, but we had a private door for entrance, and 
the kitchens and attics. I resolved to retain only the first floor, 
and let the remainder of the house ; and I very soon got a ten- 
ant at sixty pounds per annum. The attics were appropriated 
to Timothy and the servants belonging to the lodger. 

After having disposed of what was of no service to me, I 
found that, deducting the thousand pounds paid into the bank- 
er’s, for Lord Windermear, I had a little above three thousand 
pounds in ready money, and what to do with this I could not 
well decide. I applied to Mr. Masterton, stating the exact 
amount of my finances, on the day that I dined with hixi, and 
he replied, “ You have two good tenants, bringing you in one 
hundred and sixty pounds per annum — if this money is put out 
on mortgage, I can procure you five per cent., which will be one 
hundred and fifty pounds per annum. Now, the question is, do 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


193 


you think that you can live upon three hundred and ten pounds 
per annum ? You have no rent to pay ; and I should think 
that, as you are not at any great expense for a servant, you, 
with economy, might do very well. Recollect, that if your 
money is lent on mortgage you will not be able to obtain it at a 
moment’s warning. So reflect well before you decide.” 

I consulted with Timothy, and agreed to lend the money, re- 
serving about two hundred pounds to go on with, until I should 
receive my rents and interest. On the Friday I went to dine 
with Mr. Masterton, and narrated what had passed between me 
and Lady Maelstrom. He was very much diverted, and laughed 
immoderately. “Upon my faith, Mr. Newland, but you have 
a singular species of madness ; you first attack Lord Winder- 
mear, then a bishop, and, to crown all, you attack a dowager 
peeress. I must acknowledge, that if you do not find out your 
parents, it will not be for want of inquiry. Altogether, you 
are a most singular character ; your history is most singular, 
and your good fortune is equally so. You have made more 
friends before you have come to age, than most people do in 
their whole lives. You commence the world with nothing, and 
here you are with almost a competence — have paid off a loan of 
one thousand pounds, which was not required — and are moving 
in the best society. Now the only drawback I perceive in all 
this is, that you are in society under false colours, having made 
people suppose that you are possessed of a large fortune.” 

“ It was not exactly my assertion, sir.” 

“No, I grant, not exactly ; but you have been a party to it, 
and I cannot allow that there is any difference. Now do you 
mean to allow this supposition to remain uncontradicted ?” 

“I hardly know what to say, sir ; if I were to state that I 
have nothing but a bare competence, it will be only injurious to 
the memory of Major Carbonnell. All the world will suppose 
that he has ruined me, and that I had the fortune, whereas, on 
the contrary, it is to him that I am indebted for my present 
fiivourable position.” 

“That may be very true, Mr. Newland ; but if I am to con- 
0 


194 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


sider you as my protdgd, and I may add the protdge of Lord 
Windermear, I must make you quite honest — I will be no party 
to fraud in any shape. Are you prepared to resign your bor^ 
rowed plumes, and appear before the world as you really 
are 

There is but one indueement, sir, for me to wish that the 
world may still deceive themselves. I may be thrown out of 
society, and lose tlie opportunity of discovering my parents.” 

“ And pray, Mr. Newland, which do you think is more likely 
to tend to the discovery, a general knowledge that you are a 
foundling in search of your parents, or your present method, of 
taxing every body upon suspicion. If your parents wish to re* 
claim you, they will then have their eyes directed towards you, 
from your position being known ; and I will add, there are few 
parents who will not be proud of you as a son. You will have 
the patronage of Lord Windermear, which will always secure 
you a position in society, and the good wishes of all, although, 
I grant, that such worldly people as Lady Maelstrom may 
strike your name off their porter's list. You will, moreover, 
have the satisfaction of knowing that the friends which you 
make have not been made under false colours and appearances, 
and a still further satisfaction, arising from a good conscience.” 

‘‘ I am convinced, sir, and I thank you for your advice. I 
will now be guided by you in every thing.” 

“ Give me your hand, my good lad, I now will be your friend 
to the utmost of my power.” 

“ I only wish, sir,” replied I, much affected, “ that you v,'cre 
also my father.” 

“ Thank you for the wish, as it implies that you have a good 
opinion of me. What do you mean to do ?” 

“ I have promised my friend Mr. Harcourt to' go down with 
him to his father's.” 

“Well.” 

“ And before I go I will undeceive him.” 

. “ You are right ; you will then find whether he is a friend to 
vou or to your supposed ten thousand pounds per annum 1 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


195 


5aTe been reflecting, and I am not aware that any thing else 
can be done at present than acknowledge to the world who you 
really are, which is more likely to tend to the discovery of your 
parents than any other means, but at the same time I shall not 
be idle. All we lawyers have among us strange secrets, and 
among my fraternity, to whom I shall speak openly, I think it 
possible that something may be found out which may serve as a 
clue. Do not be annoyed at being cut by many, when your his- 
tory is known ; those who cut you are those w'hose acquaint- 
ance and friendship are not worth having ; it will unmask your 
flatterers from your friends, and you will not repent of your 
having been honest ; in the end, it is the best policy, even in a 
worldly point of view. Come to me as often as you please ; I 
am always at home to you, and always your friend.” 

Such was the result of my dinner with Mr. Masterton, which 
I narrated to Timothy as soon as I returned home. “ Well, 
Japhet, I think you have found a real friend in Mr. Masterton, 
and I am glad that you have decided upon following his advice. 
As for me, I am not under false colours, I am in my right situ- 
ation, and wish no more.” 

In pursuance of my promise to Mr. Masterton, I called upon 
Ilarcourt the next morning, and after stating my intention to 
go down for a day or two into the country to see a little girl 
who was under my care, I said to him, “ Harcourt, as long as 
we were only town acquaintances, mixing in society, and under 
no peculiar obligations to each other, I did not think it worth 
while to undeceive you on a point in which Major Garbonnell 
was deceived himself, and has deceived others ; but now that 
you have offered to introduce me into the bosom of your family, 
I cannot allow you to remain in error. It is generally supposed 
that I am about to enter into a large property when I come of 
age ; now, so far from that being the case, I have nothing in 
the world but a bare competence, and the friendship of Lt)rd 
Windermear. In fact, I am a deserted child, ignorant of my 
parents, and most anxious to discover them, as I have every 
reason to suppose that I am of no mean birth. I tell you this 


196 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH FO A. FATHER. 


candidly, and unless you renew the inyitation, shall considei 
that it has not been given.” 

Harcourt remained a short time without answering. You 
really have astonished me, Newland ; but,” continued he, 
extending his hand, I admire — I respect you, and I feel that 
I shall like you better. With ten thousand pounds a-year, you 
were above me — ^now we are but equals. I, as a younger 
brother, have but a bare- competence, as well as you ; and as 
for parents — for the benefit I now derive from them, I might as 
well have none. Not but my father is a worthy, fine old gen- 
tleman, but the estates are entailed ; he is obliged to keep up 
his position in society, and he has a large family to provide for, 
and he can do no more. You have indeed an uncommon moral 
courage to have made this confession. Do you wish it to be 
kept a secret ?” 

“ On the contrary, I wish the truth to be known.” 

“ I am glad that you say so, *as I have mentioned you as a 
young man of large fortune to my father ; but I feel convinced 
when I tell him this conversation, he will be much more pleased 
in taking you by the hand, than if you were to come down and 
propose to one of my sisters. I repeat the invitation with 
double the pleasure that I gave it at first.” 

“ I thank you, Harcourt,” replied I ; “ some day I will tell 
you more. I must not expect, however, that everybody will 
prove themselves as noble in ideas as yourself.” 

“Perhaps not-; but never mind that. On Friday next, then, 
we start.” 

“ Agreed.” I shook hands and left him. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


197 


CHAPTER XXXYII. 

1 TRY BACK TO RECOVER THE LOST SCENT, AND DISCOVER TO ilV 
ASTONISHMENT, THAT I HAVE BEEN TRANSPORTED FOR FORGERY. 

The behaviour of Harcourt was certainly a good encourage- 
ment, and had I been wavering in my promise to Mr. Master- 
ton, would have encouraged me to proceed. I returned home 
with a light heart and a pleasing satisfaction, from the convic- 
tion that I had done right. The next morning I set oif 

for , and as it was a long while since I had seen Eleta, our 

meeting was a source of delight on both sides. I found her 
very much grown and improved. She was approaching her 
fifteenth year, as nearly as we could guess — of course her exact 
age was a mystery. Her mind was equally expanded. Her 
mistress praised her docility and application, and wished to 
know whether I intended that she should be taught music and 
drawing, for both of which she had shown a decided taste. To 
this I immediately consented, and Fleta hung on my shoulder, 
and embraced me for the indulgence. She was now fast 
approaching to womanhood, and my feelings towards her were 
more intense than ever. I took the chain of coral and gold 
beads from her neck, telling her that I must put it into a secure 
place, as much depended upon them. She was curious to know 
why, but I would not enter into the subject at that time. One 
caution I gave her, in case, by any chance, her retreat should 
be discovered by the companions of Melchior, which was, that 
without I myself came, she was, on no account, to leave the 
school, even if a letter from me was produced, requesting her 
to come, unless that letter was delivered by Timothy. I gave 
the same directions to her mistress, paid up her schooling and 
expenses, and then left her, promising not to be so long before 
I saw her again. On my return to town I deposited the neck- 
lace with Mr. Masterton, who locked it up carefully in his iron 
safe. 


198 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


On the Friday, as agreed, Harcourt and I, accompanied by 
Timothy and Ilarcourt’s servant, started on the outside of tha 
coach, as younger brothers usually convey themselves, for his 

father^s seat in shire, and arrived th’ere in time for dinner. 

was kindly received by old Mr. Harcourt and his family, con- 
sisting of his wife and three amiable and beautiful girls. But 
on the second day, during which interval I presume Harcourt 
had an opportunity of undeceiving his father, I was delighted 
to perceive that the old gentleman’s warmth of behaviour 
towards me was increased. I remained there for a fortnight, 
and never was so happy. I was soon on the most intimate 
terms with the whole family, and was treated as if I belonged 
to it. Yet when I went to bed every night I became more and 
more melancholy. I felt what a delight it must be to have 
parents, sisters, and friends — the bosom of a family to retire 
into, to share with it your pleasures and your pains ; and the 
tears often ran down my cheeks, and moistened my pillow, when 
I had, not an hour before, been the happiest of the happy, and 
the gayest of the gay. In a family party, there is nothing so 
amusing as any little talent out of the general way, and my 
performances, and tricks on cards, &e., in which Melchior had 
made me such an adept, were now brought forward as a source 
of innocent gratification. When I quitted, I had a general and 
hearty welcome to the house from the parents ; and the eyes of 
the amiable girls, as well as mine, were not exactly dry, as w^e 
bade each other farewell. 

“You told your father, Harcourt, did you not 

“Yes, and the whole of them, Japhet ; and you must ac- 
knowledge, that in their estimation you did not suffer. My 
father is pleased with our intimacy, and advises me to cultivate 
it. To prove to you that I am anxious so to do, I have a pro- 
posal to make. I know your house as well as you do, and that 
you have reserved only the first floor for yourself ; but there 
are two good rooms on the first floor, and you can dispense 
with a dressing-room. Suppose we club together. It will be a 
saving to us both, as poor Carbonnell said when he took you in ” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 199 

With all iny heart : I am delighted with the prv.i|DOsal.” 

Harcourt then stated what it was his intention to olFei 
fcr his share of the apartment ; the other expenses to be 
divided, and his servant dismissed. I hardly need say, that 
we did not disagree, and before I had been a week in town, 
we were living together. My interview with Mr. Masterton, 
and subsequent events, had made me forget to call on the gov- 
ernors of the Foundling Hospital, to ascertain whether there 
had been any inquiries after me. On my return to town I 
went there, and finding that there was a meeting to be held on 
the next day, I presented myself. I was introduced into the 
room where they were assembled. 

“ You wish to speak with the governors of the Hospital, I 
understand,” said the presiding governor. 

Yes, sir,” replied I ; “ I have come to ask whether an 
inquiry has been made after one of the inmates of this charity, 
of the name of Japhet Newland.” 

“ Japhet Newland !” 

“ If you recollect, sir, he was bound to an apothecary of the 
name of Cophagus, in consequence of some money which was 
left with him as an infant, enclosed in a letter, in which it was 
said that he would be reclaimed if circumstances permitted.” 

I recollect it perfectly well — ^it is now about six ’years 
back. I think there was some inquiry, was there not, Mr. 
G ?” 

“ I think that there was, about a year and a half ago ; but 
we will send for the secretary, and refer to the minutes.” 

My heart beat quick, and the perspiration bedewed my fore- 
head, when I heard this intelligence. At last, my emotion was 
so great, that 1 felt faint. You are ill, sir,” said one of the 
gentlemen ; “ quick — a glass of water.” 

The attendant brought a glass of water, which I drank, and 
recovered myself. ‘‘ You appear to be much interested in this 
young man’s welfare.” 

I am §ir,” replied I ; “ no one can be more so.” 

The secretary now made his appearance with the register, 


200 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


and after turning over the leaves, read as follows : “ Augiisl 

the 16 th, a gentleman came to inquire after an iofant 

left here, the name of Japhet, with whom money had been 
deposited — Japhet, christened by order of the governors, 
Japhet Newland — referred to the shop of Mr. Cophagus, 
Smithfield Market. He returned the next day, saying that 
Mr. Cophagus had retired from business— that the parties in 
the shop knew nothing for certain, but believed that the said 
Japhet Newland had been transported for life for forgery, 
about a year before.” 

“ Good heavens ! what an infamous assertion I” exclaimed I, 
clasping my hands. 

“ On reference back to the calendar, we observed that one 
J. Newland was transported for such an offence. Query ?” 

“ It must have been some other person; but this has arisen 
from the vindictive feelings of those two scoundrels who served 
under Pleggit,” cried I. 

“ How can you possibly tell, sir ?” mildly observed one of 
the governors. 

“ How can I tell, sir ?” replied I, starting from my chair. 
“ Why, I am Japhet Newland myself, sir.” 

“ You, sir,” replied the governor, surveying my fashionable 
exterior, my chains, and bijouterie. 

“Yes, sir, I am the Japhet Newland brought up in this asy- 
lum, and who was apprenticed to Mr. Cophagus.” 

“ Probably, then, sir,” replied the president, “ you are the 
Mr. Newland whose name appears at all the fashionable parties 
in high life ?” 

“ I believe that I am the same person, sir.” 

“ I wish you joy upon your success in the world, sir. It 
would not appear that it can be very important to you to dis- 
cover your parents.” 

“ Sir,” replied I, “ you have never known what it is to feel 
the want of parents and friends. Fortunate as you may con- 
sider me to be — and I acknowledge I have every reason to be 
grateful for my unexpected rise in life — I would, at this mo- 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


201 


ment, give up all that I am worth, resume my Foundling dress 
and be turned out a beggar, if I could but discover the authors 
of my existence.” I then bowed low to the governors, and 
quitted the room 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

MISCHIEF BREWING TIMOTHY AND I SET OUR WITS TO WORK, AND 

HE RESUMES HIS OLD PROFESSION OF A GIPSY. 

I HASTENED home with feelings too painful to be described. I 
had a soreness at my heart, an oppression on my spirits, which 
weighed me down. I had but one wish — that I was dead. I 
had already imparted to Harcourt the history of my life ; and 
when I came in, I threw myself upon the sofa in despair, and 
relieved my agonized Jieart with a flood of tears. As soon as 
I could compose myself, I stated what had occurred. 

“ My dear Xewland, although it has been an unfortunate oc- 
currence in itself, I do not see that you have so much cause to 
grieve, for you have this satisfaction, that it appears there has 
been a wish to reclaim you.” 

Yes,” replied I, “ I grant that ; but have they not been told, 
and have they not believed, that I have been ignominiously 
punished for a capital crime ? Will they ever seek me more ?” 

“ Probably not ; you must now seek them. What I should 
recommend is, that you repair to-morrow to the apothecary’s 
shop, and interrogate relative to the person who called to 
make inquiries after you. If you will allow me, I will go with 
you.” 

“And be insulted by those malignant scoundrels ?” 

“ They dare not insult you. As an apothecary’s apprentice 
they would, but as a gentleman they will quail ; and if they 
do not, their master will most certainly be civil, and give you 
all the information which he can. We may as well, however 

9 * 


20^ 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


Qot do tilings by halves; I will borrow my aunt^s carriage for 
the morning, and we will go in style.” 

I think I will call this evening upon Mr. Masterton, ana 
ask his advice.” 

“ Ask him to accompany us, Newland, and he will frighten 
them with libel and defamation character.” 

I called upon Mr. Masterton that evening, and told my 
story. “It is, indeed, very provoking, Newland; but keep 
your courage up, I will go with yoii to-morrow, and will see 
what we can make of it. At what time do you propose, to 
start ?” 

“Will it suit you, sir, if we call at one o’clock ?” 

“Yes; so good night, my boy, for I have something here 
which I must contrive to get through before that time.” 

Harcourt had procured the carriage, and we picked up Mr. 
Masterton at the hour agreed, and proceeded to Smithfield. 
When we drove up to the door of Mr. Pleggit’s shop, the assis- 
tants at first imagined that it was a mistake; few handsome 
carriages are to be seen stopping in this quarter of the metro- 
polis. We descended and entered- the shop, Mr. Masterton 
inquiring if Mr. Pleggit was at home. The shopmen, who had 
not recognised me, bowed to the ground in their awkward way, 
and one ran to call Mr. Pleggit, who was up stairs. Mr. Pleg- 
git descended, and we walked into the back parlour. Mr. 
Masterton then told him the object of our calling, and requested 
to know why the gentleman who had inquired after me had 
been sent away with the infamous fabrication that I had been 
transported for forgery. Mr. Pleggit protested innocence — re- 
collected, however, that a person had called — would make every 
inquiry of his shopmen. The head man was calledjn and inter- 
rogated — at first he appeared to make a joke of it, but when 
threatened by Mr. Masterton became humble — acknowledged 
that they had said that I was transported, for they had read it 
in the newspapers — was sorry for the mistake; said that the 
gentleman was a very tall person, very well dressed, very much 
of a gentleman — could not recollect, his exact dress — wcs a 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


203 


large built man, witb a stern face — but seemed very mucli agi 
tated when he heard that I had been transported. Called 
twice, Mr. Pleggit was not in at first — left his name — thinks 
the name was put down on the day-book — when he called a 
second time, Mr. Pleggit was at home, and referred him to 
them, not knowing what had become of me. The other shop- 
man was examined, and his evidence proved similar to that of 
the first. The day-book was sent for, and the day in August 

referred to; there was a name written down on the side of 

the page, which the shopman said he had no doulrt, indeed he 
could almost swear, was the gentleman’s name, as there was no 
other name put down on that day. The name, as taken down, 
was Derlennon. This was all the information we could obtain, 
and we then quitted the shop, and drove off without there being 
any recognition of me on the part of Mr. Pleggit and his assis- 
tants. 

“I never heard that name before,” observed Harcourt to Mr. 
Masterton. 

‘‘ It is, in all probability, De Benyon,” replied the lawyer : 

we must make allowances for their ignorance. At all events, 
this is a sort of clue to follow up. The I)e Benyons are 
Irish.” 

“Then I will set off for Ireland to-morrow morning, sir,” 
said I. 

“ You will do no such thing,” replied the lawyer ; “but you 
will call upon me to-morrow evening, and perhaps I may have 
something to say to you.” 

I did not fail to attend Mr. Masterton, w^ho stated that he 
had made every inquiry relative to the Be Benyons ; as he had 
said, they were an Irish family of the highest rank, and hold- 
ing the peerage of Be Beauvoir ; but that he had written to 
his agent in Bublin, giving him directions to obtain for him 
every possible information in his power relative to all the indi- 
viduals composing it. Till this had been received, all that I 
could do was to remain quiet. I then narrated to him the 
behaviour of the agent, Mr. Iving, to Timothy. “There iy 


204 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH DP A FATHER. 


some mystery there, most assuredly,” observed Mr. Masterton : 
“ when do you go again to ?” 

I replied, that it was not my intention to go there for some 
time, unless he would wish to see the little girl. 

“I do, Newland. I think I must take her under my protec- 
tion as well as you. We will go down to-morrow. Sunday is 
the only day I can spare ; but it must be put down as a work 
of charity.” 

The next day we went down to . Fleta was surprised 

to see me so soon, and Mr. Masterton was much struck with 
the elegance and classical features of my little protegee. He 
asked her many questions, and, with his legal tact, contrived to 
draw from her many little points -relative to her infant days, 
which she had, till he put his probing questions, quite forgotten. 
As we returned to town, he observed, “You are right, Japhet; 
that is no child of humble origin. Her very appearance 
contradicts it ; but we have, I think, a chance of discovering 
who she is — a better one, Pm afraid, than at present we have 
for your identification. But never mind, let us trust to perse- 
verance.” 

For three weeks I continued to live with Harcourt, but I 
did not go out much. Such was the state of my affairs, when 
Timothy came to my room one morning, and said : “ I do not 
know whether you have observed it, sir ; but there is a man 
constantly lurking about here, watching the house, I believe. 
I think, but still I’m not quite sure, that I have seen his face 
before ; but where I cannot recollect.” 

“ Indeed, what sort of a person may he be ?” 

“ He is a very dark man, stout, and well made ; and is 
dressed in a sort of half-sailor, half-gentleman’s dress, such as 
you sec put on by those who belong to the Funny Clubs on the 
river ; but he is not at all a gentleman himself — quite the con- 
trary. It is now about a week that I have seen him every day; 
and I have watched him, and perceive that he generally follows 
you as soon as you go out.” ^ 

“ Well,” replied I, “we must find out what he wants — if wc 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 20^ 

can. Point him out to me ; I will soon see if he is tracing m}‘ 
steps.” 

Timothy pointed him out to me after breakfast ; I could not 
recollect the face, and yet it appeared that I had seen it before 
I went out, and after passing half a dozen streets, I turned 
round and perceived that the man was dodging me. I took no 
notice, but being resolved to try him again, I walked to the 
White Horse Cellar, and took a seat inside a Brentford coach 
about to start. On my arrival at Brentford, I got out, and 
perceived that the man was on the roof. Of a sudden it 
flashed on my memory — ^it was the gipsy who had come to the 
camp with the communication to Melchior, which induced him 
to quit it. I recollected him — and his kneeling down by the 
stream and washing his face. The mystery was solved — Mel- 
chior had employed him to find out the residence of Fleta. In 
all probability they had applied to the false address given by 
Timothy, and in consequence were trying, by watching my 
motions, to find out the true one. “You shall be deceived at 
all events,” thought I, as I walked on through Brentford until 
I came to a ladies’ seminary. I rang the bell, and was admit- 
ted, stating my wish to know the terms of the school for a 
young lady, and contrived to make as long a stay as I could, 
promising to call again, if the relatives of the young lady were 
as satisfied as I professed to be. On my quitting the house, I 
perceived that my gipsy attendant was not far off. I took the 
first stage back, and returned to my lodgings. When I had 
told all that had occurred to Timothy, he replied : “ I think, 
sir, that if you could replace me for a week or two, I could 
now be of great service. He does not know me, and if I were 
to darken my face, and put on a proper dress, I think I 
should have no difficulty in passing myself off as one of the 
tribe, knowing their slang, and having been so much with 
them.” 

“ But what good do you anticipate, Timothy ?” 

“ My object is to find out where he puts up, and to take the 
same quarters — ^make his acquaintance, and find out who ^Icl- 


206 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


cliior is, and where he lives. My knowledge of him and ^fattee 
may perhaps assist me.” ^ 

“ You must be careful, then, Timothy ; for he may know 
sufficient of our history to suspect you.” 

“ Let me alone, sir. Do you like my proposal ?” 

“Yes, I do ; you may commence your arrangements imme- 
diately.” 


CHAPTEK XXXIX. 

I SET OFF ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE AND FALL IN WITH AN OLD 

FRIEND. 

The next morning, Timothy had procured me another valet, 
and throwing off his liveries, made his appearance in the even, 
ing, sending up to say a man wished to speak to me. He was 
dressed in highlow boots, worsted stockings, greasy leather 
small clothes, a shag waistcoat, and a blue frock overall. His 
face was stained of a dark olive, and when he was ushered in, 
Harcourt, who was sitting at table with me, had not the 
slightest recognition of him. As Harcourt knew all my secrets, 
I had confided this ; I had not told him what Timothy ^s inten- 
tions were, as I wished to ascertain whether his disguise was 
complete. I had merely said I had given Timothy leave for a 
few days. 

“Perhaps you may wish me away for a short time,” said 
Harcourt, looking at Tim. 

“Not at all, my dear Harcourt, why should I? There’s 
nobody here but you and Timothy.” 

“ Timothy I excellent — upon my word, I never should have 
known him.” 

“ He is going forth on his adventures.” 

“ And if you please, sir, I will lose no time. It is now dark 
and I know where the gipsy hangs out.” 


, JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 207 

% 

' Success attend you, then ; but be careful, Tim. You had 
better write to me, instead of calling.” 

“I had the same idea ; and now I wish you a good evem 
ing.” 

When Timothy quitted the room, I explained our intentions 
to Harcourt. “ Yours is a strange adventurous sort of life, 
Newland ; you are constantly plotted against, and plotting in 
your turn — mines and counter-mines. I have an idea that yon 
will turn out some grand personage after all ; for if not, why 
should there be all this trouble about you ?” 

“ The trouble, in the present case, is all about Fleta ; who 
must, by your argument, turn out some grand personage.” 

“Well, perhaps she may. I should like to see that little 
girl, Newland.” 

“ That cannot be just now, for reasons you well know ; but 
some other time it will give me great pleasure.” 

On the second day after Tim’s departure, I received a letter 
from him by the twopenny post. He had made the acquaint- 
ance of the gipsy, but had not extracted any information, 
being as yet afraid to venture any questions. He further stated 
that his new companion had no objection to a glass or two, and 
that he had no doubt but that if he could contrive to make him 
tipsy, in a few days he would have some important intelligence 
to communicate. I was in a state of great mental agitation 
during this time. I went to Mr. Masterton, and narrated to 
him all that had passed. He was surprised and amused, and 
desired me not to fail to let him have the earliest intelligence 
of what came to light. He had not received any answer as yet 
from his agent in Dublin. 

It was not until eight days afterwards that I received further 
communication from Timothy ; and I was in a state of great 
impatience, combined with anxiety, lest any accident should 
have happened. His communication was important. He was 
on the most intimate footing with the man, who had proposed 
that he should assist him to carry off a little girl, who was at a 
school at Brentford. They had been consulting how this 


208 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

should be done, and Timothy had proposed forging a letter 
desiring her to come up to town, and his carrying it as a liver j 
servant. The man had also other plans, one of which was to 
obtain an entrance into the house by making acquaintance with 
the servants ; another, by calling to his aid some of the women 
of his fraternity to tell fortunes : nothing was as yet decided, 
but that he was resolved to obtain possession of the little girl, 
even if he were obliged to resort to force. In either case, Tim- 
othy was engaged to assist. 

When I read this, I more than congratulated myself upon 
the man’s being on the wrong scent, and that Timothy had hit 
upon his scheme. Timothy continued : that they had indulged 
in very deep potations last night, and that the man had not 
scrupled to say that he was employed by a person of large for- 
tune, who paid well, and whom it might not be advisable to 
refuse, as he had great power. After some difficulty, he asked 
Timothy if he had ever heard the name of Melchior in his tribe 
Timothy replied that he had, and that at the gathering he had 
seen him and his wife. Timothy at one time thought that the 
man was about to reveal every thing, but of a sudden he stop- 
ped short, and gave evasive answers. To a question put by 
Timothy, as to where they were to take the child if they 
obtained possession of her, the man replied, that she would go 
over the water. Such were the contents of the letter, and I 
eagerly awaited a further communication. 

The next day I called at Long’s Hotel upon a gentleman 
with wliom I was upon intimate terms. After remaining a 
short time with him, I was leaving the hotel, when I was 
attracted by some trunks in the entrance hall. I started 
when I read the address of— “ A. He Benyon, Esq., to be left at 

E 1 Hotel, Dublin.” I asked the waiter who was by, 

whether Mr. He Benyon had left the hotel. He replied that 
he had left it in his own carriage that morning, and having 
more luggage than he could take with him, had desired these 
trunks to be forwarded by the coach. I had by that time 
resumed my serenity. I took out a memorandum-book, WTote 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


209 


down the address on the trunks, saying that I was sorry not to 
have seen Mr. De Benyon, and that I would write to him. 

But if I composed myself before the waiter, how did mj 
heart throb as I hastily passed through Bond Street to my 
home I I had made up my mind, upon what very slight 
grounds the reader must be aware, that this Mr. De Benyon 
either must be ray father, or, if not, was able to tell me who 
was. Had not Mr. Masterton said that there was a clue — 
had he not written to Dublin ? The case was to my excited 
imagination as clear as the noon-day, and before I arrived at 
home, I had made up my mind in what manner I should pro- 
ceed. It was then about four o^clock. I hastily packed up 
my portmanteau— took with me all my ready money, about 
sixty pounds, and sent the servant to secure a place in the mail 
to Holyhead. He returned, stating that there was a seat 
taken for me. I waited till half-past five to see Harcourt, but 
he did not come home. I then wrote him a short note, telling 
him where I was going, and promising to write as soon as I 
aiTived. 

Ireland is to be the ground of my future adventures, my 
dear Harcourt. Call upon Mr. Masterton, and tell him what 
I have done, which he surely will approve. Open Timothy^s 
letters, and let me have their contents. I leave you to arrange 
and act for me in every respect until I return. In the mean 
time believe me, 

“ Ever yours, 

“ J. Newland.' 

I gave the letter to the valet, and calling a coach drove to 
the ofiice, and in less than five minutes afterwards was rolling 
away to Holyhead, felicitating myself upon my promptitude 
and decision, little imagining to what the step I had taken was 
to lead. 

It was a very dark night in November when I started on 
my expedition. There were three other passengers in the 


210 


/APHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


mail, none of whom had yet spoken a word, although we had 
made several miles of our journey. Muffled up in my cloak, 1 
indulged in my own reveries as usual, building up castles which 
toppled over one after another as I built and rebuilt again. 
At last one of the passengers blew his nose, as if to give 
warning that he was about to speak ; and then inquired of the 
gentleman next him if he had seen the evening newspapers. 
The other replied in the negative. ‘‘It would appear that 
Ireland is not in a very quiet state, sir,” observed the first. 

“ Did you ever read the history of Ireland inquired the 
other. 

“Not very particularly.” 

“ Then, sir, if you were to take that trouble, you will find 
that Ireland, since it was first peopled, never has been in a 
quiet state, nor perhaps ever will. It is a species of human 
volcano — always either smoking, burning or breaking out into 
eruptions and fire.” 

“Very true, sir,” replied the other. “I am told the White 
Boys are mustering in large numbers, and that some of the 
districts are quite impassable.” 

“ Sir, if you had travelled much in Ireland, you would have 
found out that many of the districts are quite impassable, with- 
out the impediment of the White Boys.” 

“ You have been a great deal in Ireland, then, sir,” replied 
the other. 

“ Yes, sir,” said the other with a consequential air, “ I be- 
lieve I may venture to say that I am in charge of some of the 
most considerable properties in Ireland.” 

“ Lawyer — agent — five per cent. — and so on,” muttered the 
third party, who sate by me, and had not yet spoken. 

There was no mistaking him — it was my former master, Mr. 
Cophagus ; and I cannot say that I was very well pleased at 
( his intimation of his presence, as I took it for granted that he 
would recognise me as soon as it w^as daylight. The conver- 
sation continued, without any remarks being made upon this 
interruption on the part of Mr. Cophagus. The agent, it 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


211 


appeared, liad been called to London on business, and was 
returning. The other was a professor of music, bound to 
Dublin on speculation. What called Mr. Cophagus in that 
direction I could not comprehend ; but I thought I would 
try and find out. I therefore, while the two others were 
engaged in conversation, addressed him in a low tone of voice. 
“ Can you tell me, sir, if the College at Dublin is considered 
good for the instruction of surgical pupils 

“Country good, at all events plenty of practice — broken 
heads — and so on.” 

“ Have you ever been in Ireland, sir ?” 

“ Ireland ! — never — don’t wish to go — must go — old women 
will die — executor — botheration — and So on.” 

“ I hope she has left you a good legacy, sir,” replied I. 

“Legacy — hump — can’t tell — silver tea-pot — suit of black, 
and so on. Long journey — won’t pay — can’t be helped — old 
women always troublesome alive or dead — ^bury her, come back 
— and so on.” 


CHAPTEE XL. 

I DENY MY MASTER. 

Although Mr. Cophagus was very communicative in his own 
way, he had no curiosity with regard to others, and the con- 
versation dropped. The other two had also asked all the ques- 
tions which they wished, and we all, as if by one agreement, 
fell back in our seats, and shut our eyes, to court sleep. I was 
the only one who wooed it in vain. Day broke, my companions 
were all in repose, and I discontinued my reveries, and examin- 
ed their physiognqmies. Mr. Cophagus was the first to whom 
[ directed my attention. He was much the same in face as 
when I had left him, but considerably thinner in person. His 
head was covered with a white nightcap, and he snored with 
emphasis. The professor of music was a very small man, with 


212 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

mustacliios : his mouth was wide open ; and one would have 
thought that he was in the full execution of a bravura. The 
third person, who had stated himself to be an agent, was a 
heavy, full-faced, coarse-looking personage, with his hat over 
his eyes, and his head bent down on his chest, and I observed 
that he had a small packet in one of his hands, with his fore 
finger twisted through the string. I should not have taken 
further notice, had not the name of T. Iving, in the corner of 
the side on which was the direction, attracted my attention. It 
was the name of Melchior’s London correspondent, who had 
attempted to bribe Timothy. This induced me to look down and 
read the direction of the packet, and I clearly deciphered. Sir 
Henry de Clare, Bart. Mount Castle, Connemara. I took out 
my tablets, and wrote down the address. I certainly had no 
reason for so doing, except that nothing should be neglected, 
as there was no saying what might turn out. I had hardly 
replaced my tablets when the party awoke, made a sort of 
snatch at the packet, as if recollecting it, and wishing to ascer- 
tain if it were safe, looked at it, took off his hat, let down the 
window, and then looked round upon the other parties. 

“ Fine morning, sir,” said he to me, perceiving that I was 
the only person awake. 

“ Very,” replied I, “ very fine ; but I had rather be walking 
over the mountains of Connemara, than be shut up in this close 
and confined conveyance.” 

“ Hah I you know Connemara, then ? I’m going there ; 
perhaps you are also bound to that part of the country ? but 
you are not Irish.” 

“ I was not born or bred in Ireland, certainly,” replied I. 

“So I should say. Irish blood in your veins, I pre- 
sume.” 

“ I believe such to be the case,” replied I, with a smile, 
implying certainty. 

“ Do you know Sir Henry de Clare ?” 

“ Sir Henry de Clare — of Mount Castle — is he not ?” 

“ The same ; I am going over to him. I am agent for his 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


213 


estates, among others. A very remarkable man Have you 
ever seen his wife 

“ I really cannot tell,” replied I ; “let me call to mind.” 

I had some how or another formed an idea, that Sir Henry 
de Clare and Melchior might be one and the same person ; 
nothing was too absurd or improbable for my imagination, and 
I had now means of bringing home my suspicions. “ I think,” 
continued I, “ I recollect her — that is, she is a very tall, hand- 
some woman, dark eyes and complexion.” 

“ The very same,” replied he. 

My heart bounded at the information j it certainly was not 
any clue to my own parentage, but it was an object of my 
solicitude, and connected with the welfare of Fleta. “If I 
recollect right,” observed I, “ there are some curious passages 
in the life of Sir Henry ?” 

“ ^N'othing very particular,” observed the agent, looking out 
of the window. 

“ I thought that he had disappeared for some time.” 

“ Disappeared I he certainly did not live in Ireland, because 
he had quarrelled with his brother. He lived in England until 
his brother’s death.” 

“ How did his brother die, sir ?” 

“ Killed by a fall when hunting,” replied the agent. “ He 
was attempting to clear a stone wall, the horse fell back on 
liim, and dislocated his spine. I was on the spot when the 
accident happened.” 

I recollected the imperfect communication of Eleta, who had 
heard the gipsy say that “he was dead ;” and also the word 
horse, made use of, and I now felt convinced that I had found 
out Melchior. “ Sir Henry, if I recollect right, has no family,” 
observed I. 

“ Ko ; and I am afraid there is but little chance.” 

“ Had the late baronet, his elder brother, any family ?” 

“ What, Sir William ? No ; or Sir Henry would not have 
come into the title.” 

•' He might have had daughters,” replied I. 


214 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“ Very true ; now I think of it, there was a girl, who died 
when young.” 

“ Is the widow of Sir William alive ?” 

“Yes ; and a very fine woman she is ; hut she has left 
Ireland since her husband’s death.” 

I did not venture to ask any more questions. Our conversa- 
tion had roused Mr. Cophagus and the other passenger ; and 
as I had reflected how I should behave in case of recognition, 
I wished to be prepared for him. “ You have had a, good nap, 
sir,” said I, turning to him. 

“ Nap — yes — coach nap, bad — ^head sore — and so on. Why 
-bless me — Japhet — Japhet New — ^yes — it is.” 

“ Do you speak to me, sir ?” inquired I, with a quiet air. 

“ Speak to you — yes — bad memory — ^hip ! quite forgot — old 
master — shop in Smithfield — mad bull — and so on.” 

“Really, sir,” replied I, “I am, afraid you mistake me for 
some other person.” 

Mr. Cophagus looked veiy hard at me, and perceiving that 
there was no alteration in my countenance, exclaimed, “ Very 
odd — same nose — same face — same age too — ^very odd — ^like as 
two pills — beg pardon — ^made a mistake — and so on.” 

Satisfied with the discomfiture of Mr. Cophagus, I turned 
round, when I perceived the Irish agent, with whom I had 
been in conversation, eyeing me most attentively. As I said 
before, he was a hard-featured man, and his spiall grey eye was 
now fixed upon me, as if it would have pierced me through. I 
felt confused for a moment, as the scrutiny was unexpected 
from that quarter ; but a few moments’ reflection told me, that 
if Sir Henry de Clare and Melchior were the same person, and 
this man his agent, in all probability he had not been sent to 
England for nothing ; that if he was in search of Fleta, he 
must have heard of my name, and perhaps something of my 
history. “ I appear to have a great likeness to many people,” 
observed I, to the agent, smiling. “ It was but the other day 
I was stopped in Bond Street as a Mr. Rawlinson.” 

“ Not a very common face either, sir,” observed the agent • 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 215 

“if once seen not easily forgotten, nor easily mistaken for 
another.” 

“ Still such appears to be the case,” replied I, carelessly. 

We now stopped to take refreshment. I had risen from the 
table, and was going into the passage, when I perceived the 
agent looking over the way-bill with the guard. As soon as he 
perceived me, he walked out in, front of the inn. Before the 
guard had put up the bill, I requested to look at it, wishing to 
ascertain if I had been booked in my own name. It was so. 
The four names were Kewland, Cophagus, Baltzi, M'Dermott. 
I was much annoyed at this circumstance. M'Dermott was, of 
course, the name of the agent ; and that was all the information 
I received in return for my own exposure, which I now con- 
sidered certain ; I determined, however, to put a good face on 
the matter, and when we returned to the coach, again entered 
into conversation with Mr. M‘Dermott, but I found him par- 
ticularly guarded in his replies whenever I spoke about Sir 
Henry or his family, and I could not obtain any further infor- 
mation. Mr. Cophagus could not keep his eyes off me — he 
peered into my face — then he would fall back in the coach. 
“ Odd — very odd — must be — no — says not — um.” In about 
another half hour, he would repeat his examination, and muttei 
to himself. At last, as if tormented with his doubts, he ex- 
claimed, “ Beg pardon — but — ^you have a name ?” 

“ Yes,” replie(f I, “ I have a name.” 

“ Well, then — not ashamed. What is it ?” 

“ My name, sir,” I replied, “ is Newland for I had resolved 
to acknowledge my name, and to fall back upon a new line of 
defence. 

“ Thought so — don’t know me — don’t recollect shop — Mr. 
Brookes’s — Tim — rudiments — and so on.” 

“ I have not the least objection to tell you my name ; but 1 
am afraid you have the advantage in your recollection of me. 
Where may I have had the honour of meeting you ?” 

“ Meeting — what, quite forgot — Smithfield ?” 

“ And pray, sir, where may Smithfield be ?” 


216 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ Very odd — can’t comprehend — same name, same face— 
don’t recollect me, don’t recollect Smithfield 

“ It may be very odd, sir ; but, as I am very well known in 
London, at the west end, perhaps we have met there. Lord 
Windermear’s, perhaps — Lady Maelstrom’s ?” — and I continued 
mentioning about a dozen of the most fashionable names. “ At 
all events, you appear to have the advantage of me ; but I trust 
you will excuse my want of memory, as my acquaintance is very 
extensive.” 

“ I see — quite a mistake — same name, not same person — ^beg 
pardon, sir — apologies — and so on,” replied the apothecary, 
drawing in a long sigh. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

I TURN LAWYER. 

I WATCHED the countenance of the agent, who appeared at last 
to be satisfied that there had been some mistake ; at least he 
became more communicative ; and as I no longer put any ques- 
tions to him relative to Sir Henry, we had a long conversation. 
I spoke to him about the De Benyons, making ^very inquiry that 
I could think of. He informed me that the deceased earl, the 
father of the present, had many sons, who were some of them 
married, and that the family was extensive. He appeared to 
know them all, the professions which they had been brought 
up to, and their careers in life. I treasured up his information, 
and, as soon as I had an opportunity, wrote down all which he 
had told me. On our arrival at Holyhead, the weather was 
very boisterous, and the packet was to depart immediately 
Mr. McDermott stated his intentions to go over, but Mr. Co- 
phagus and the professor declined ; and, anxious as I was to 
proceed, I did not wish to be any longer in company with the 
agent, and therefore, also declined going on board. Mr 


JAPHET, IN SEAPvCH OF A FATHER. 


2n 


M‘Dermott called for a glass of brandy and water, drank it 
off in baste, and then, followed by the porter, with his luggage, 
went down to embark. 

As soon as he was gone, I burst into a fit of laughter. 
“ Well, Mr. Cophagus, acknowledge that it is possible to per. 
suade a man out of his senses. You knew me, and you were 
perfectly right in asserting that I was Japhet, yet did I per- 
suade you at last that you were mistaken. But I will explain 
to you why I did so.’^ 

“ All right,” said the apothecary, taking my proffered hand, 

thought so — ^no mistake — handsome fellow — so you are — 
Japhet Yewland — my apprentice — and so on.” 

“Yes, sir,” replied I laughing, “I am Japhet Yewland.” 
(I turned round, hearing a noise, the door had been opened, 
and Mr. M'Dermott had just stepped in ; he had returned for 
an umbrella, which he had forgotten ; he looked at me, at 
Mr. Cophagus, who still held my hand in his, turned short 
round, said nothing, and walked out.) “ This is unfortunate,” 
observed I : “my reason for not avowing myself was to deeeive 
that very person, and now I have made the avowal to his face ; 
however, it cannot be helped.” 

I sat down with my old master, and as I knew that I could 
confide in him, gave him an outline of my life, and stated my 
present intentions. 

“ I see, Japhet, I see — done mischief — sorry for it — can’t be 
helped — do all I can — um — what’s to be done ? — be your 
friend — always like you — help all I can — and so on.” 

“But what would you advise, sir ?” 

“ Advice — bad as physic — nobody takes it — Ireland— wild 
place — no law — better go back — leave all to me — find out — • 
and so on.” 

This advice I certainly could not consent to follow. ■ 

We argued the matter over for some time, and then it was 
agreed that we should proceed together. I was informed by 
Mr. Cophagus that he had retired with a very haiKisome for- 
tune, and was living in the country, about ten miles from the 

10 


218 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


metropolis ; that he had been summoned to attend the funeral 
of a maiden aunt in Dublin, who had left him executor and 
residuary legatee, but that he knew nothing of her circum- 
stances. He was still a bachelor, and amused himself in giving 
advice and medicines gratis to the poor people of the village in 
which he resided, there being no resident practitioner within 
some distance. He liked the country very much, but there was 
one objection to it — the cattU. He had not forgotten the mad 
hull. At a very late hour we retired to our beds : the next 
morning the weather had moderated, and, on the arrival of the 
mail, we embarked, and had a very good passage over. On 

my arrival at Dublin I directed my steps to the F 

Hotel, as the best place to make inquiries relative to Mr. De 
Benyon. Mr. Cophagus also put up at the same hotel, and we 
agreed to share a sitting-room. 

“ Waiter,” said I, “do you know a Mr. De Benyon ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied he ; “ there is one of the De Benyons at 
the hotel at this moment.” 

“ Is he a married man ?” 

“ Yes — with a large family.” 

“ What is his Christian name ?” 

“ I really cannot tell, sir ; but I’ll find out for you by to- 
morrow morning.” 

“ When does he leave ?” 

“ To morrow, I believe.” 

“ Do you know where he goes ?” 

“Yes, sir ; to his own seat.” 

The waiter left the room. “Won’t do, Japhet,” said 
Cophagus. “ Large family — don’t want more — hard times, and 
so on.” 

“No,” replied I, “it does not exactly answer ; but I may 
from him obtain further intelligence.” 

“Won’t do, Japhet — try another way — large family — want 
all uncle’s money — urn — never tell — good night.” 

This remark of Mr. Cophagus gave me an idea, upon "which 
I proceeded the next morning. I sent in my card, requesting 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


21S 


the honour of speaking to Mr. De Benyon, stating that I had 
come over to Ireland on business of importance, but that, as I 
must be back if possible by term time, it would, perhaps, save 
much expense and trouble. The waiter took in the message. 
“ Back by term time — it must be some legal gentleman. Show 
him up,’^ said Mr. De Benyon. 

I walked in with a business-like-air. Mr. De Benyon, I 
believe 

“Yes, sir ; will you do me the favour to take a chair V’ 

I seated myself, and drew out my memorandum book. “ My 
object, Mr. De Benyon, in troubling you, is to ascertain a few 
particulars relative to your family, which we cannot so easily 
find out in England. There is a •pro'perty which it is supposed 
may be claimed by one of the De Benyons, but which we can- 
not ascertain until we have a little search into the genealogical 
tree.” 

“ Is the property large ?” inquired Mr. De Benyon. 

“Not very large,” replied I ; “ but still a very handsome 
property, I am told.” The reader may surmise that the pro- 
perty referred to was my own pretty self. “May I ask you a 
few particulars relative to the present earl and his brothers ?” 

“ Most certainly, sir,” replied Mr. De Benyon ; “ any infor- 
mation I can give you will be at your service. The earl has 
four brothers. The eldest Maurice.” 

“ Is he married ?” 

“ Yes, and has two children. The next is William.” 

“ Is he married ?” 

“ No ; nor has he ever been. He is a general in the army 
The third is myself, Henry.” 

“ Yoii are married, I believe, sir ?” 

“Yes, with a large family.” 

“ May I request you will proceed, sir ?” 

“ Arthur is the fourth brother. He is lately married, and has 
two children,” 

“ Sir, I feel much obliged to you ; it is a curious and intri- 
cate affair. As I am here, I may as well ask one question, 


220 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


although not of great consequence. The earl is married, I per- 
ceive, by the peerage, but I do not find that he has any child- 
ren ” 

“ On the contrary, he’ has two — and prospects of more. May 
T now request the particulars connected with this property 

“ The exact particulars, sir, I cannot well tell you, as I am 
not acquainted with them myself ; but the property in question, 
I rather think, depends upon a na7ne. May I venture to ask 
the names of all your children 

Mr. De Benyon gave me a list seriatim, which I put down 
with great gravity. 

“ Of course, there is no doubt of your second brother not 
being married. I believe we ought to have a certificate. Do 
you know his address V’ 

“ He has been in the East Indies for many years. He 
returned home on furlough, and has now just sailed again for 
Calcutta.” 

“ That is unfortunate ; v/e must forward a letter through the 
India Board. May I also be favoured with your address, as in 
all probability it may be advisable ?” 

Mr. De Benyon gave me his address. I rose, promised to 
give him all the particulars as soon as they were known to me, 
bov/ed, and made my exit. To one who was in his sober senses, 
there certainly was not any important information gained ; but 
to me, it was evident thart, the Mr. De Benyon who was a gen- 
eral in the army was to be interrogated, and I had almost made 
up my mind to set off for Calcutta. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


221 


CHAPTER XLII. 

I AFFRONT AN IRISH GENTLEMAN AND MAKE A HANDSOME APOLOGY, 
WHICH IS ACCEPTED. 

Before I had gained my own room, I informed Mr. Cophagus, 
who had just returned from a visit to his maiden aunt’s house, 
of what had passed. 

“ Can’t see any thing in it, Japhet — wild goose chase — who 
told you ? — oh I Pleggit’s men — sad liars — De Benyon not 
name, depend upon it — all stuff, and so on.” 

And when I reflected, I could but acknowledge that the 
worthy apothecary might be right, and that I was running 
after shadows ; but this was only in my occasional fits of des- 
pondency : 1 soon rallied, and was as sanguine as ever. Unde- 
cided how to proceed, and annoyed by what Cophagus had said, 
I quitted the hotel, to walk out in no very good humour. As I 
went out, I perceived the agent M‘Dermott speaking to the 
people in the bar, and the sight of him reminded me of what, 
for a moment, I had forgotten, which was, to ascertain whether 
Melchior and Sir Henry de Clare were one and the same per- 
son. As I passed a crossing, a man in tattered habiliments, 
who was sweeping it, asked for alms, but being in no very cha- 
ritable humour, I walked on. He followed me, pestering me so 
much, that I gave him a tap with the cane in my hand, saying 
to him, “ Be off, you scoundrel.” 

“ Oh I very well. Be off, is it you mane ? By the blood of 
the O’Rourkes, but you’ll answer for that same, any how.” 

I passed on, and having perambulated the city of Dublin for 
some time, returned to the hotel. A few minutes’ afterwards, I 
was told by the waiter that a Mr. O’Donaghan wished to speak 
to me. “ I have not the honour of his acquaintance,” replied I, 
“ but you may show him up.” 

Mr. O’Donaghan entered, a tall, thick-whiskered personage, 
in a shabby-genteel dress, evidently not made for him, a pair of 


222 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

white cotton gloves, and a small stick. “ I believe that 1 have 
the honour of speaking to the gentleman who crossed over the 
street about two hours ago 

“Upon my word, sir,” replied I, “that is so uncertain a 
definition that I can hardly pretend to say whether I am the 
person you mean ; indeed, from not having the pleasure of any 
one’s acquaintance in Dublin, I rather think there must be some 
mistake.” 

“ The devil a bit of a mistake, at all at all ; for there’s the 
little bit of a cane with which you paid my friend, Mr. O’Rourke, 
the compliment over his shoulders.” 

“ I really am quite mystified, sir, and do not understand you ; 
will you favour me with an explanation ?” 

“With all the pleasure in life, for then we shall come to 
a right understanding. You were crossing the street, and 
a gentleman, a particular friend of mine, with a broom 
which he carries for his own amusement, did himself the 
honour to address you, whereupon, of that same little stick of 
yours, you did him the honour to give him a slight taste.” 

“ What do you mean ? do you refer to the sweeper, who was 
so importunate when I crossed over the road ?” 

“ Then, by the powers, you’ve just hit it, as you did 
him. That’s my particular friend, Thaddeus O’Rourke, gen- 
tleman.” 

“ Gentleman !” exclaimed I. 

“ And with as good and as true Milesian blood as any in 
Ireland. If you think, sir, that because my friend, just for his 
own amusement, thinks proper to put on the worst of his 
clothes and carry a broom, just by way of exercise, to prevent 
his becoming too lusty, he is therefore to be struck like a hound, 
it’s a slight mistake, that’s all ; and here, sir, is his card, and 
you will oblige me by mentioning any friend of yours with 
whom I may settle all the little points necessary before the 
meeting of two gentlemen.” 

I could hardly refrain from laughing at this Irish gentleman 
j-nd his friend, but I thought it advisable to retain my countc* 


TAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER, 22U 

nance. My dear sir,” replied I, it grieves me to tlie heart 
that I should have committed such an error, in not perceiving 
the gentility of your friend ; had I not been so careless, I 
certainly should have requested him to do me the honour to 
accept a shilling, instead of having offered him the insult, 
I hope it is not now too late ?” 

“ By the powers, Fm not one of those harum-scarum sort, 
who would make up a fight when there’s no occasion for it, and 
as your ’haviour is that of a gentleman, I think it will perhaps 
be better to shake hands upon it, and forget it altogether. 
Suppose now, we’ll consider that it was all a mistake? You 
give the shilling as you intended to do, I’ll swear only you were 
in so great a hurry — and then, perhaps, you’ll not object to 
throw in another shilling for that same tap with the cane, just 
to wipe off the insult as it were, as we do our sins, when 
we fork out the money, and receive absolution from the padre ; 
and then, perhaps, you will not think it too much if I charge 
another shilling for my time and trouble, for carrying a message 
between two gentlemen,” 

On the contrary, Mr. O’Donaghan, I think all your de- 
mands are reasonable. Here is the money.” 

Mr. O’Donaghan took the three shillings. “ Then, sir, and 
many thanks to you. I’ll wish you a good evening, and Mr. 
O’Rourke shall know from me that you have absolution for the 
whole, and that you have offered every satisfaction which one 
gentleman could expect from another.” So saying Mr. O’Dona- 
ghan put his hat on with a firm cock, pulled on his gloves, 
manoeuvred his stick, and with a flourishing bow, took his 
departure. ' 

I had hardly dismissed this gentleman, and was laughing to 
myself at the ridiculous occurrence, when Mr. Cophagus returned, 
first putting his cane up to his nose with an arch look, and then 
laying it down on the table, and rubbing his hands. “ Good 
— warm old lady. No — dead and cold — ^but left some thou- 
sands — only one legacy — old Tom cat — physic him to-morrcw 
— -soon die, and so on.” 


224 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


On a more full explanation, I found that the old ladj had 
left about nine thousand pounds in the funds and bank securi- 
ties, all of which, with the exception of twenty pounds per 
annum to a favourite cat, was left to Mr. Cophagus, I con- 
gratulated him upon this accession of fortune. He stated that 
the lease of the house and the furniture were still to be disposed 
of, and that afterwards he should have nothing more to do . 
but he wished me very much to assist him in rummaging over 
the various cabinets belonging to the old lady, and which were 
full of secret drawers ; that in one cabinet alone he had found 
upwards of fifty pounds in various gold coins, and that if not 
well examined, they would probably be sold with many articles 
of consequence remaining in them. 

As my only object in Ireland was to find out Sir Henry de 
Clare, and identify him, (but, really, why I could not have said, 
as it would have proved nothing after all,) I willingly con- 
sented to devote a day to assist Mr. Cophagus in his examina- 
tion.^ The next morning^ after breakfast, we went together to 
the house of the old lady, whose name had been Maitland, as 
Mr. Cophagus informed me. Her furniture was of the most 
ancient description, and in every room in the house there was 
an ormolu, or Japan cabinet ; some of them were very handsome,* 
decorated with pillars, and silver ornaments. I can hardly 
recount the variety of articles, which in all probability had 
been amassed during the whole of the old lady’s life, commenc- 
ing with her years of childhood, and ending with the day of her 
death. There were antique ornaments, some of considerable 
value, miniatures, fans, etuis, notes, of which the ink, from time, 
had turned to a light red, packages of letters of her various cor- 
respondents in her days of hope and anticipation, down to those 
of solitude and age. We looked over some of them, but they 
appeared to both of us to be sacred, and they were, after a 
slight examination, committed to the flames. 

After we had examined all the apparent receptacles in .these 
cabinets, we took them up between us, and shook them, and in 
most cases found out that there were secret drawers containimx 

o 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A. FATHER. 


225 


other treasures. There was one packet of letters which caught 
my eye ; it was from a Miss de Benyon. I seized it immediately, 
and showed the inscription to Mr. Cophagus. “ Pooh — noth- 
ing at all — her mother was a De Benyon.” 

“ Have you any objection to my looking at these letters ?” 

“ ISTo — read — nothing in them.” 

I laid them on one side, and we proceeded in our search, 
when Mr. Cophagus took up a sealed packet. “ Heh ! what's 
tills — De Benyon again ? Japhet, look here.” 

I took the packet ; it was sealed and tied with red tape- 
“ Papers belonging to Lieutenant William de Benyon, to be 
returned to him at my decease.” “ Alice Maitland, with great 
care,” was written at the bottom of the envelope. 

“ This is it, my dear sir,” cried I, jumping up and embracing 
Mr. Cophagus ; “ these are the papers which I require. May 
I keep them ?” 

“ Mad — quite mad — go to Bedlam — strait waistcoat — head 
shaved — and so on.” 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

I AM NOT CONTENT WITH MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS, BUT MUST 
HAVE A HAND IN THAT OF OTHERS, BY WHICH MEANS I PUT. MY 
FOOT IN IT. * 

He then, after his own fashion, told me, that, as executor, 
he must retain those papers ; pointed out to me the little pro- 
bability there was of their containing any information relative 
to my birth, even allowing that a person of the name of De 
Benyon did call at the Foundling to ask for me, which was 
only a supposition ; and, finally, overthrew all the hopes which 
had been, for so many days, buoying me up. When he had 
finished, I threw myself upon the sofa in despair, and wished, 
at the moment, that I had never been born. Still hope again 

10 * 


226 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

rose uppermost, and I would have given all I possessed to have 
been able to break open the seals of that packet, and have 
read the contents. At one moment I was so frantic, that I 
was debating whether I should not take them from Mr. Co- 
phagus by force, and run off with them. At last I rose, and 
commenced reading the letters which I had put aside, but there 
was nothing in them but the trifling communications of two 
young women, who mentioned what was amusing to them, but 
uninteresting to those who were not acquainted with the parties. 

When he had finished, Mr. Cophagus collected all together, 
and putting them into a box, we returned in a coach to the 
hotel. The next day Mr. Cophagus had completed all his 
arrangements, and the day following had determined to j*eturii 
to England. I walked with him down to the vessel, and 
watched it for an hour after it had sailed, for it bore away a 
packet of papers, which I could not help imagining were to 
discover the secret which I was so eager in pursuit of. A 
night’s sleep made me more rational, and I now resolved to 
ascertain where Sir Henry de Clare, or Melchior, as I felt cer- 
tain he must be, was to be found. I sent for the waiter, and 
asked him if he could inform me. He immediately replied in 
the affirmative, and gave his address, .Mount Castle, Conne- 
mara, asking me when I intended to set out. It did not strike 
me till afterwards, that it was singular that he should be so 
well acquainted with the address, and that he should have pro- 
duced a card with it written upon it ; or, moreover, that he 
should know that it was my intention to go there. I took the 
address, and desired that I might have horses ready very early 
the next morning. I then sat down and wrote a letter to Har- 
court, informing him of my proceedings, also one to Mr. Master- 
ton much more explicit, lastly to Timothy, to the care of Har- 
court, requesting him to let me know what had occurred be- 
tween him and the gipsies, xifter dinner, I packed up ready 
for my journey, and having settled my bill, I was not sorry to 
retire to my bed. 

At daylight I was, as I requested, called by the waiter ; and 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


227 


taking with me only a very small portmanteau, having left the 
rest of my effects in the charge of the people who kept the 
hotel, I set off in a post-chaise on my expedition. I was soon 
clear of the city, and on a fine smooth road, and, as I threw 
myself back in the corner of the chaise, I could not help asking 
myself the 'question — what was the purport of my journey? 
As the reader will perceive, I was wholly governed by impulses, 
and never allowed reason or common sense to stand in the way 
of my feelings. “ What have I to do ?” replied I to myself ; 
“to find out if Melchior and Sir Henry de Clare be not one and 
the same person. And what then ? What then ? — why then 
I may find out something relative to Fleta’s parentage. ^N'ay, 
but is that likely — if, as you suppose, Melchior is Sir Henry de 
Clare — if, as you suppose, it is he who is now trying to find out 
and carry off Fleta — is it probable that you will gain any infor- 
mation from him ? I have an idea that Fleta is the little girl 
said to have died, who was the child of his elder brother. AVhy 
so ? What interest could Melchior have in stealing his own 
niece ? That I cannot tell. Why did Nattde give me the 
necklace ? I cannot tell ; she would hardly betray her husband. 
At all events, there is a mystery, and it can only be unravelled 
by being pulled at ; and I may learn something by meeting 
Melchior, whereas I shall learn nothing by remaining quiet.” 
This last idea satisfied me ; and for many hours I remained in 
a train of deep thought, only checked by paying for the horses 
at the end of every stage. 

It was now past twelve o’clock, when I found that it was 
necessary to change the chaise at every post. The country 
also, as well as* the roads, had changed much for the worse. 
Cultivation was not so great, the roads were mountainous, and 
rivilisation generally disappeared. It was nearly dark when I 
arrived at the last post, from whence I was to take horses to 
Mount Castle. As usual, the chaise was also to be changed ; 
and I could not help observing that each change was from bad 
to worse. Rope harness was used, and the vehicles themselves 
were of the most crazy condition. Still I had travelled very 


228 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

% 

fairly ; for an Irish postilion knows how to make an Irish hors(f 
go a very fair pace. I descended from the chaise, and ordered 
another out immediately. To this there was no reply, except. 

Wait, your honour j step in a moment, and rest from your 
fatigue a little.” Presuming this was merely to give them time 
to get ready, I walked into the room of the inn, which indeed 
was very little better than a hovel, and sat down by the turf 
fire in company with some others whom I could hardly distin- 
guish for smoke. I paid the chaise and postilion, and soon 
afterwards heard it drive off, on its way back. After a few 
minutes I inquired if the chaise was getting ready. 

“Is it the chaise your honour means ?” said the landlady. 

“ Yes,” replied I ; “ a chaise on to Mount Castle.” 

“ Then I am sorry that your honour must wait a little ; for 
our chaise, and the only one which we have, is gone to the cas- 
tle, and wonT be back till long after the moon is up. What 
will your honour please to take ?” 

“Not back till moonlight !” replied I ; “ why did you not sav 
so ? and I would have gone on with the other.” 

“Is it with the other you mane, your honour ? Then if 
Teddy Driscoll could make his horses go one step farther than 
our door, may I never have a soul to be saved. Will your 
honour please to sit in the little room ? Kathleen shall lielit a 
fire.” 

Vexed as I was with the idea of passing the night in this 
horrid place, there was no help for it ; so I took up my port- 
manteau, and followed the landlady to a small room, if it de- 
served the appellation, which had been built after the cottage, 
and a door broken through the wall into it. Ceiling there was 
none ; it had only lean-to-rafters, with tiles over head. I took 
a seat on the only stool that was in the room, and leant my 
elbow on the table in no very pleasant humour, when I heard 
the girl say, “ And why doiiT you let him go on to the cas- 
tle ? Sure the chaise is in the yard, and the horses are in 
the stable.” 

“ There’s orders ’gainst it, Kathleen,” replied the landlady. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


229 


“ Mr. M'Derraott was here this blessed day, and who can deny 
him ?” 

“ Who is he then replied the girl. 

“ An attorney -with a warrant against Sir Henry ; and, more- 
over, they say that he’s coming to ’strain upon the cattle 
of Jerry O’Toole for the tithes.” 

“He’s a bould young chap, at all events,” replied the girl, 
“ to come here all by himself.” 

“ Oh ! but it’s not till to-morrow morning, and then we’ll 
have the troops here to assist him.” 

“ And does Jerry O’Toole know of this ?” 

“ Sure enough he does ; and I hope there’ll be no murder 
committed in my house this blessed night. But what can a 
poor widow do when M'Dermott holds up his finger ? Now, go 
light the fire, Kathleen, and see if the poor young man wants 
any thing ; it’s a burning pity that he shouldn’t have something 
to comfort him before his misfortunes fall upon him.” 

Kathleen made no reply. The horror that I felt at this dis- 
course may easily be imagined. That it was intended that I 
should meet with foul play was certain, and I knew very well 
that, in such a desolate part of the country, the murder of an 
individual, totally unknown, would hardly be noticed. That I 
had been held up to the resentment of the inhabitants as a 
tithe collector, and an attorney with a warrant, was quite suffi- 
cient, I felt conscious, to induce them to make away with me. 
How to undeceive them was the difficulty. 


CHAPTER XLIY. 

♦ 

NO HOPES OF RISING NEXT MORNING ALIVE AS A LAST CHANCE, 1 

GET INTO BED. 

Kathleen came in with fuel to light the fire, and looking rathei 
hard at me, passed by, and was soon busy blowing up the turf. 


230 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER, 


She was a very handsome dark-eyed girl, about nineteen years 
of age, stout, and well made. “ What is your name ?’■ said I. 

“ Kathleen, at your service, sir.” 

“ Listen to me Kathleen,” said I, in a low voice. “You are 
a woman, and all women are kind-hearted. I have overheard 
all that passed between your mistress and you, and that McDer- 
mott has stated that I am a tithe collector and an attorney, 
with a warrant. I am no such thing. I am a gentleman wlio 
wish to speak to Sir Henry de Clare on a business which he 
does not like to be spoken to about ; and to show you what I 
say is the truth, it is about the daughter of his elder brother, 
who was killed when hunting, and who is supposed to be dead. 
I am the only evidence to the contrary ; and, therefore, he 
and McPermott have spread this report that I may come to 
harm.” 

“ Is she alive, then ?” replied Kathleen, looking up to me 
with wonder. 

“ Yes ; and I will not tell Sir Henry where she is, and that 
is the reason of their enmity.” 

“ But I saw her body,” replied the girl, in a low voice, stand- 
ing up, and coming close to me. 

cc It was not hers, depend upon it,” replied I, hardly knowing 
what to answer to this assertion. 

“ At all events, it was dressed in her clothes ; but it was so 
long b'efore it was discovered, that we could make nothing of 
the features. Well, I knew the poor little thing, for my mother 
nursed her. I was myself brought up at the castle, and lived 
there till after Sir William was killed ; then we were all sent 
' away.” 

“Kathleen I Kathleen I” cried the landlady 

“ Call for every thing you can think of, one after another,” 
whispered Kathleen, leaving the room. 

I cannot make the peat burn,” said she to the landlady, 
after she had quitted the little room ; and the gentleman wants 
some whisky.” 

“ Go out then, and get some from the middle of the stack, 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


231 


Kathleen, and be quick ; we have others to attend to besides 
the tithe proctor. There’s the O’Tooles all come in, and your 
own Corny is with them.” 

“ My Corny, indeed !” replied Kathleen ; “ he’s not quite sc 
sure of that.” 

lu a short time Kathleen returned, and brought some dr}/ 
peat and a measure of whisky. “ If what you say is true,” said 
Kathleen, “ and sure enough you’re no Irish, and very young 
for a tithe proctor, who must grow old before he can be such a 
villain, you are in no very pleasant way. The O’Tooles are 
here, and I’ve an idea they mean no good ; for they sit with all 
their heads together, whispering to each other, and all their 
shillelaghs by their sides.” 

“ Tell me, Kathleen, was the daughter of Sir William a fair- 
haired, blue-eyed girl ?” 

“To be sure she was,” replied Kathleen, “ and like a little 
mountain fairy.” 

“ Now, Kathleen, tell me if you recollect if the little girl or 
her mother ever wore a necklace of red beads mixed with 
gold ?” 

“ Yes, that my lady did ; and it was on the child’s neck when 
it was lost, and when the body was found it was not with it. 
Well I recollect that, for my mother, said the child must have 
been drowned or murdered for the sake of the gold beads.” 

“ Then you have proved all I wished, Kathleen ; and now I 
tell you that this little girl is alive, and that I can produce the 
necklace which was lost with her ; and more, that she was 
taken away by Sir Henry himself.” 

“ Merciful Jesus I” replied Kathleen ; “ the dear little child 
that we cried oyer so much.” 

“ But now, Kathleen, I have told you this, to prove to you 
that I am not what M'Dermott has asserted, no doubt, with 
the intention that my brains shall be knocked out this night.” 

“ And so they will, sure enough,” replied Kathleen, “ if you 
do not escape.” 

“ But how am I to escape ? and will you assist me ?” A nd I 


232 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


laid down on the table ten guineas from my purse. “ Take 
that, Kathleen, and it will help you and Corny. Now will you 
assist me 

“ It’s Corny that will be the first to knock your brains out,” 
replied Kathleen, “ unless I can stop him. I must go now, and 
ni see what can be done.” 

Kathleen would have departed without touching the gold ; 
but I caught her by the wrist, collected it, and put it into her 
hand. “That’s not like a tithe proctor at all events,” replied 
Kathleen ; “ but my heart aches, and my head swims, and 
what’s to be done I know not.” So saying, Kathleen quitted 
the room. 

“ Well,” thought I, after she had left the room, “ at all 
events, I have not been on a wrong scent this time. Kathleen 
has proved to me that Fleta is the daughter of the late Sir 
William ; and if I escape this snare, Melchior shall do her jus- 
tice.” Pleased with my having so identified Melchior and 
Fleta, I fell into a train of thought, and for the first time 
forgot my perilous situation ; but I was roused from my medi- 
tations by an exclamation from Kathleen. “No, no, Corny, 
nor any of ye — not now — and mother and me to witness it — it 
shall not be. Corny, hear me, as sure as blood’s drawn, and 
we up to see it, so sure* does Corny O’Toole never touch this 
hand of mine.” A pause, and whispering followed, and again 
all appeared to be quiet. I unstrapped my portmanteau, took 
out my * pistols, v/hich were loaded, re-primed them, and 
remained quiet, determined to sell my life as dearly as possible. 

It was more than half an hour before Kathleen returned ; 
she looked pale and agitated. “ Keep quiet, and do not think 
of resistance,” said she ; “it is useless. I have told my mother 
all, and she believes you, and will risk her life to save him who 
has watched over the little girl whom she nursed ; but keep 
quiet, we shall soon have them all out of the house. Corny 
dare not disobey me, and he will persuade the others.” 

She then went out again, and did not return for nearly an 
hour, when she was accompanied by her mother. “ Kathleen 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 233 

has told me all, young sir,” said she, “ and do what we can wo 
will ; but we hardly know what to do. To go to the castlt* 
would be madness.” 

“ Yes,” replied I ; “ but cannot you give me one of your horses 
to return the way I came 

“ That was our intention ; but I find that the O’Tooles have 
taken them all out of the stable to prevent me ; and the house 
is watched. They will come at midnight and attack us, that I 
fully expect, and how to conceal you puzzles my poor head.” 

“If they come, we can but persuade them that he has 
escaped,” replied Kathleen; “they will no longer watch the 
house, and he will then have some chance.” 

“ There is but one chance,” replied the mother, who took 
Kathleen aside, and whispered to her. Kathleen coloured to 
the forehead, and made no reply. “ If your mother bids you, 
Kathleen" there can be no harm.” 

“ Yes ; but if Corny was ” 

“ He dare not,” replied the mother ; “ and now put this light 
out, and do you get into bed, sir, with your clothes on.” 
They led me to a small bedroom, a miserable affair, but in that 
part of the country considered respectable. “ Lie down there,” 
said the mother, “ and wait till we call you.” They took the 
light away, and left me to myself and my own reflections, which 
were anything but pleasant. I lay awake, it might be for two 
hours, when I heard the sound of feet, and then a whispering 
under the window, and shortly afterwards a loud knocking at 
the door, which they were attempting to burst open. Every 
moment I expected that it would yield to the violence which 
was made use of, when the mother came down half dressed, 
with a light in her hand, hastened to me, and desired me to 
follow her. I did so, and before she left my room, she threw 
tlie window wide open. She led me up a sort of half-stairs, 
half-ladder, to a small room, where I found Kathleen sitting up 
in her bed, and half-dressed. “ Oh mother I mother I” cried 
Kathleen. 

“ I bid ye do it, child,” replied the mother, desiring me to 


234 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

creep into her daughter’s bed, and cover myself up on the-sido 
next the wall. 

Let me put on more clothes mother.” 

“No, no; if you do they will suspect, and will not hesitate 
to search. Your mother bids you.” 

The poor girl was burning with shame and confusion. 

“ Nay,” replied I, “ if Kathleen does not wish it, I will not 
buy my safety at the expense of her feelings.” 

“Yes, yes,” replied Kathleen^ “I don’t mind now; those 
words of yours are sufficient. Come in, quick.” » 


CHAPTER XLY. 

PETTICOAT INTEREST PREVAILS, AND I ESCAPE; BUT I PUT MY HEAD 
INTO THE lion’s DEN. 

There was no time for apology, and stepping over Kathleen, I 
buried myself under the clothes by her side. The mother then 
hastened down stairs, and arrived at the door just as they had 
succeeded in forcing it open, when in pounced a dozen men, 
armed, with their faces blackened. “ Holy Jesus I what is it 
that you want ?” screamed the landlady. 

“ The blood of the tithe proctor, and that’s what we’ll have,” 
replied the O’Tooles. 

“ Not in my house — not in my house 1” cried she. “ Take 
him away, at all events; promise me to take him away.” 

“ So we will, honey darlint; we’ll take him out of your sight, 
and out of your hearing, too, only show us where he may be.” 

“He’s sleeping,” replied the mother, pointing to the door 
of the bedroom where I had been lying down. 

The party took the light from her hand, and went into the 
room, where they perceived the bed empty and the window 
spen. “ Devil a bit of a proctor here any how,” cried one of 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


23;j 


them’, “ and the window open. He’s off — hurrah I my lads, he 
can’t be far.” 

“ By the powers ! it’s just my opinion, Mrs. M'Shane,” re- 
plied the elder O’Toole, “ that he’s not quite so far off; so with 
your lave, or by your lave, or without your lave, wee’ll just have 
a look over the premises.” 

“ 0 ! and welcome, Mr. Jerry O’Toole : if you think I’n 
the woman to hide a proctor, look everywhere just as you 
please.” 

The party, headed by Jerry O’Toole, who had taken the 
light out of Mrs. M'Shane’s hand, now ascended the ladder to 
the upper story, and as I lay by Kathleen, I felt that she 
trembled with fear. After examining every nook and cranny 
they could think of, they came to Mrs. M'Shane’s room — “ 0 I 
go in — go in and look, Mr. O’Toole; it’s a very likely thing to 
insinuate that I should have a tithe proctor in my bed. Search, 
pray,” and Mrs. M‘Shane led the way into her room. 

Every part had been examined except the small sleeping 
room of Kathleen; and the party paused before the door. 
“We must search,” observed O’Toole, doggedly. 

“ Search my daughter’s ! very well, search if you please; it’s 
a fine story you’ll have to tell, how six great men pulled a poor 
girl out of her bed to look for a tithe proctor. It will be a 
credit to you any how; and you, Corny O’Toole, you’ll stand 
well in her good graces, when you come to talk about the wed- 
ding-day ; and your wife that is to be, pulled out of her bed by 
a dozen men. What will ye say to Kathleen, when you affront 
her by supposing that a maiden girl has a tithe proctor in bed 
with her ? D’ye think that ye’ll ever have the mother’s con- 
sent or blessing ?” 

“No one goes into Kathleen’s room,” cried Corny O’Toole, 
roused by the sarcasms of Mrs. M'Shane. 

“ Yes, Corny,” replied Mrs. M'Shane, “ it’s not for a woman 
like me to be suspected, at all events; so you, and you only, 
shall go into the room, if that will content ye, Mr. Jerry 
O’Toole.” 


238 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER’. 

“Yes replied the party, and Mrs. M’SIiane opened the 
door. 

Kathleen rose up on her elbow, holding the bed clothes up 
to her throat, and looking at them, as they entered, said, “ 0 
Corny I Corny ! this to me 

Corny never thought of looking for any body, his eyes were 
riveted upon his sweetheart, “Murder, Kathleen, is it my 
fault ? J erry will have it.” 

“Are you satisfied. Corny?” said Mrs. M‘Shane. 

“ Sure enough I was satisfied before I came in, that Kath- 
leen would not have any one in her bed-room,” replied Corny. 

“ Then good night. Corny, and it’s to-morrow that I’ll talk 
with ye,” replied Kathleen. 

Mrs. M‘Shane then walked out of the room, expecting Corny 
to follow ; but he could not restrain himself, and he came to 
the bed-side. Fearful that if he put his arms round her, he 
would feel me, Kathleen raised herself, and allowed him to 
embrace her. Fortunately the light was not in the room, 
or I should have been discovered, as in so doing she threw 
the clothes off my head and shoulders. She then pushed back 
Corny from her, and he left the room, shutting the door after 
him. The party descended the ladder, and as soon as Kath- 
leen perceived that they were all down, she sprang out of bed 
and ran into her mother’s room. Soon after I heard them de- 
part. Mrs. M'Shane made fast the door, and came up stairs. 
She first went to her own room, where poor Kathleen was cry- 
ing bitterly from shame and excitement. I had got up when 
she came into Kathleen’s room for her clothes, and, in about 
five minutes, they returned together. I was sitting on the side 
of the bed when they came in : the poor girl coloured up when 
our eyes met. “ Kathleen,” said I, “ you have, in all proba- 
bility, saved my life, and I cannot express my thanks. I am 
only sorry that your modesty has been put to so severe a 
trial.” 

“ If Corny was to find it out,” replied Kathleen, sobbing 
again. “ How could I do such a thing ?” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


23t 


Your mother bid you,” replied Mrs. M'Shaue, “ and that is 
sufficient.” 

“ But what must you think of me, sir ?” continued Kath- 
leen.” 

“ I think that you have behaved most nobly. You have 
saved an innocent man at the risk of your reputation, and the 
loss of your lover. It is not now that I can prove my grati- 
tude.” 

“Yes, yes, promise me by all that’s sacred, that you’ll never 
mention it. Surely you would not ruin one who has tried to 
•serve you.” 

“I promise you that, and I hope to perform a great deal 
more.” replied I. “ But now, Mrs. M‘Shane, what is to be 
done ? liemain here I cannot.” 

“ Ko, you must leave, and that very soon. Wait about ten 
minutes more and then they will give up their search and go 

home. The road to E ’’ (the post I had lately come from) 

“ is the best you can take ; and you must travel as fast as you 
can, for there is no safety for you here.” 

“ I am convinced that rascal McDermott will not leave me till 
he has rid himself of me.” I then took out my purse, in which 
I still had nearly twenty guineas. I took ten of them. “ Mrs. 
M‘Shane, I must leave you in charge of my portmanteau, 
which you may forward by-and-by, when you hear of my safety. 
If I should not be so fortunate, the money is better in your 
hands than in the hands of those who will murder me. Kath- 
leen, God bless you 1 you are a good girl, and Corny 0 ‘Toole 
will be a happy man if he knows your value.” 

I then wished Kathleen good-by, and she allowed me to kiss 
her without any resistance : but the tears were coursing down 
her cheeks as I left the room with her mother. Mrs. M’Shano 
looked carefully out of the windows, holding the light to ascer- 
tain if there was any body near, and satisfied with her scrutiny, 
she then opened the door, and calling down the saints to pro- 
tect me, shook hands with me, and I quitted the house. It was 
a dark cloudy night, and when I first went out, I was obliged to 


238 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


grope, for I could distinguish nothing. I walked along with a 
pistol loaded in each hand, and gained, as I thought, the high 

road to E , but I made a sad mistake ; and puzzled by the 

utter darkness and turnings, I took, on the contrary, the road 
to Mount Castle. As soon as I was clear of the houses and the 
enclosure, there was more light, and I could distinguish the road. 
I had proceeded about four or five miles, when I heard the 
sound of horses’ hoofs, and shortly afterwards two men rode by 

me. I inquired if that was the way to E . A pause 

ensued, and a whisper. “ All’s right I” replied a deep voice. 
I continued my way, glad to find that I had not mistaken it; 
and cogitating as to what must be the purpose of two men 
being out at such an hour. About ten minutes afterwards, I 
thought I again heard the sound of horses’ feet, and it then 
occurred to me that they must be highwaymen, who had re- 
turned to rob me. I cocked my pistols, determined to sell my 
life as dearly as I could, and awaited their coming up with 
anxiety ; but they appeared to keep at the same distance, as 
the sound did not increase. After half an hour I came to two 
roads, and was undecided which to take. I stopped and listened 
— the steps of the horses were no longer to be heard. I looked 
round me to ascertain if I could recognise any object so as to 
decide me, but I could not. I took the road to the left, and 
proceeded, until I arrived at a brook which crossed the road. 
There was no bridge, and it was too dark to perceive the step- 
ping stones. I had just waded about half way across, when I 
received a blow on the head from behind, which staggered me. 
I turned round, but before I could see my assailant, a second 
blow laid me senseless in the water. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OP A FATHER. 


239 


CHAPTER XLYI. 

UNDER GROUND, BUT NOT YET DEAD AND BURIED THE PROSPECT 

ANY THING BUT PLEASANT. 

^YHEN my recollection returned I found myself in the dark, but 
where, I knew not. My head ached, and my brain reeled. I 
sat up for a moment to collect my senses, but the effort was too 
painful — I fell back, and remained in a state of half-stupor. 
Gradually I recovered, and again sat up. I perceived that I 
had been lying on a bed of straw, composed of two or three 
trusses apparently. I felt with my extended arms on each side 
of me, but touched ppthing. I opened my eyes, which I had 
closed again, and tried to pierce through the obscurity, but in 
vain — all was dark as Erebus. I then rose on my feet, and 
extending my hands before me, walked five or six steps on one 
side, till I was clear of the straw, and came to a wall. I fol- 
lowed the wall about twenty feet, and then touched wood ; 
groping about, I found it was a door. I then made the circuit 
of the walls, and discovered that the other side was built with 
bins for wine, which were empty, and I then found myself again 
at the straw upon which I had been laid. It was in a cellar no 
longer used — but where ? Again I lay down upon the straw, 
and, as it may be imagined, my reflections were any thing but 
pleasing. “Was I in the power of M‘Dermott or Melchior 
I felt convinced that I was ; but my head was too painful for 
long thought, and after half an hour’s reflection, I gave way to 
a sullen state of half-dreaming, half-stupor, in which the forms 
of McDermott, Kathleen, Melchior, and Eleta, passed in succes- 
sion before me. How long I remained in this second species of 
trance I cannot say, but I was roused by the light of a candle, 
which flashed in my eyes. I started up, and beheld Melchior 
in his gipsy’s dress, just as when I had taken leave of him. 

“ It is to you, then, that I am indebted for this treatment ?” 
asked I. 


240 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“No, not to me,” replied^ Melchior. “I do not command 
here ; but I knew you when they brought you in insensible, and 
being employed in the castle, I have taken upon myself the 
office of your gaoler, that I might, if possible, serve you.” 

I felt, I knew this to be false, but a moment’s reflection told 
me that it was better at present to temporise. 

“ Who then does the castle belong to, Melchior ?” 

“ To Sir Henry de Clare.” 

“ And what can be his object in treating me thus ?” 

“ That I can tell you, because I am a party concerned. You 
remember the little girl, Fleta, who left the gipsy camp with 
you — she is now somewhere under your care ?” 

“ AYell, I grant it ; but I was answerable only to you about 
her.” 

“ Yery true, but I was answerable to Sir Henry ; and when 
I could only say that she was well, he was not satisfied, for 
family reasons now make him very anxious that she should 
return to him ; and, indeed, it will be for her advantage, as 
she will in all probability be his heir, for he has satisfactorily 
proved that she is a near relative.” 

“ Grant all that, Melchior ; but why did not Sir Henry de 
Clare write to me on the subject, and state his wishes, and his 
right to demand his relative ? and why does he treat me in this 
way ? Another question — how is it that he has recognised me 
to be the party who has charge of the little girl ? Answer me 
those questions, Melchior, and then I may talk over the 
matter.” 

“ I will answer the last question first. He knew your name 
from me, and it so happened, that a friend of his met you in 
the coach as you were coming to Ireland : the same ‘ person 
also saw you at the post-house, and gave information. Sir 
Henry, who is a violent man, and here has almost regal sway, 
determined to detain you till you surrendered up the child. 
You recollect, that you refused to tell his agent, the person 
whose address I gave you, where she was to be found, and, 
vexed at this, he has taken the law into his own hands.” 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


241 


For wliicli he shall smart, one of these clays,” replied I, 
“ if there is law in this country.” 

“ There is a law in England, but very little, and none that 
will harm Sir Henry in this part of the country. Ho officer 
would venture within five miles of the castle, I can assure you ; 
for he knows very well that it would cost him his life ; and Sir 
Henry never quits it from one year’s end to the other. You are 
in his power, and all that he requires is information where the 
child may be found, and an order for her being delivered to 
him. You cannot object to this, as he is her nearest relative. 
If you comply, I do not doubt but Sir Henry will make you full 
amends for this harsh treatment, and prove a sincere friend 
ever afterwards.” 

“ It requires consideration,” replied I ; “ at present’ I am too 
much hurt to talk.” 

“ I was afraid so,” replied Melchior ; “ that was one reason 
why I obtained leave to speak to you. Wait a moment.” 

Melchior then put the candle down on the ground, went out, 
and turned the key. I found, on looking round, that I was 
right in my conjectures. I .was in a cellar, which, apparently, 
had long been in disuse. Melchior soon returned, followed by 
an old crone, who carried a basket and a can of water. She 
washed the blood off my head, put some salve upon the wounds, 
and bound them up. She then went away, leaving the basket. 

“ There is something to eat and drink in that basket,” ob- 
served Melchior ; “ but I think, Japhet, you will agree with me, 
that it will be better to yield to the wishes of Sir Henry, and 
not remain in this horrid hole,” 

“ Yery true, Melchior,” replied I ; “ but allow me to ask you 
a question or two. How came you here? where is Hattee, and 
how is it, that, after leaving the camp, I find you so reduced in 
circumstances, as to be serving such a man as Sir Henry de 
Clare?” 

“ A few words will explain that,” replied he. ‘‘ In my early 
days I was wild, and I am, to tell you the truth, in the power 
of this man ; nay, I will tell you honestly, my life is in his 

n 


242 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER, 


power : he ordered me to come, and I dare not disobey him — 
and he retains me here.” 

“ And Nattee ?” 

“ Is quite well, and with me, but not very happy in her pre* 
sent situation ; but he is a dangerous, violent, implacable man, 
and I dare not disobey him. I advise you, as a friend, to con- 
sent to his wishes.” 

“ That requires some deliberation,” replied I, “ and I am not 
one of those who are to be driven. My feelings towards 
Sir Henry, after this treatment, are not the most amicable ; 
besides, how am I to know that Fleta is his relative ?” 

“ Well, I can say no more, Japhet. I wish you well out of 
his hands.” 

“You have the power to help me, if that is the case,” 
said I. 

“ I dare not.” 

“Then, you are not the Melchior that you used to be,” 
replied I. 

“We must submit to fate. I must not stay longer; you will 
find all that you want in the basket, and more candles, if you 
do not, like being in the dark. I do not think I shall be per- 
mitted to come again, till to-morrow.” 

Melchior then went out, locked the door after him, and I 
was left to my meditations. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED ^THE TABLES ARE TURNED, 

AND SO IS THE KEY THE ISSUE IS DEEP TRAGEDY. 

Was it possible that which Melchior said "was true ? A little 
•’eflection told me that it was all false, and that he was himself 
Sir Henry de Clare. I was in his power, and what might be 
the result ? He might detain me, but he dare not murder me 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


248 


Dare not ! My heart sank when I considered where 1 was, 
and how easy would it be for him to despatch me, if so inclined, 
without any one ever being aware of my fate. I lighted a whole 
candle, that I might not find myself in the dark when I rose, 
and, exhausted in body and mind, was soon fast asleep. I 
must have slept many hours, for when I awoke I was in dark- 
ness — the candle had burnt out. I groped for the basket, and 
examined the contents with my hands, and found a tinder-box. 
I struck a light, and then feeling hungry and weak, refreshed 
myself with the eatables it contained, which were excellent, as 
well as the wine. I had replaced the remainder, when the key 
again turned in the door, and Melchior made his appearance. 

“ How do you feel, Japhet, to-day 

“ To-day !” replied I ; “ day and night are the same to me.’’ 

“That is your own fault,” replied he. “Have you considered 
what I proposed to you yesterday ?” 

“ Yes,” replied I ; “ and I will agree to this. Let Sir Henry 
give me my liberty, come over to England, prove his rela- 
tionship to Fleta, and I will give her up. What can he ask 
for more ?” 

“ He will hardly consent to that,” replied Melchior ; “ for, 
once in England, you will take a warrant out against him.” 

“No ; on my honour, I will not, Melchior.” 

“ He will not trust to that.” 

“ Then, he must judge of others by himself,” replied I. 

“ Have you no other terms to propose ?” replied Melchior. 

“ None.” 

“ Then, I will carry your message, and give you his answer 
to-morrow.” 

Melchior then brought in another basket, and took away the 
former, and did not make his appearance till the next day. I 
now had recovered my strength, and determined to take some 
decided measures, but how to act I knew not. I reflected all 
night, and the next morning (that is, according to my supposi- 
tion) I attacked the basket. Whether it was. that ennui or 
weakness occasioned it, I cannot tell, but either way, I drank 


244 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


too much wine, and was ready for any daring deed, when Mel* 
chior again opened the door. 

“ Sir Henry will not accept of your terms. I thought not,” 
said Melchior ; “ I am sorry — very sorry.” 

“Melchior,” replied I, starting up, “let us have ho more 
of this duplicity. I am not quite so ignorant as you suppose. 
I know who Fleta is, and who you are.” 

“ Indeed,” replied Melchior ; “ perhaps you will explain ?” 

“ I will. You, Melchior, are Sir Henry de Clare ; you 
succeeded to your estates by the death of your elder brother, 
from a fall when hunting.” 

Melchior appeared astonished. 

“Indeed!” replied he; “pray go on. You have made a 
gentleman of me.” 

“ ^s'o ; rather a scoundrel.” 

“ As you' please ; now will you make a lady of Fleta ?” 

“Yes, I will. She is your niece.” Melchior started back. 
“ Your agent, M'Dermott, who was sent over to find out 
Fleta’s abode, met me in the coach, and he has tracked me 
here, and risked my life, by telling the people that I Avas a 
tithe proctor.” 

“Your information is very important,” replied Melchior. 
“ You will find some difficulty to prove all you say.” 

“Not the least,” replied I, flushed with anger and with 
wine, “I have proof, positive. I have seen her mother, and I 
can identify the child by the necklace which wms on her neck 
when you stole her.” 

“ Necklace 1” cried Melchior. 

“Yes, the necklace put into my hands by your own wife 
when we parted.” 

“ Damn her 1” cried Melchior. 

“ Do not damn her ; damn yourself for your villany, and 
its being brought to light. Have I said enough, or shall I tell 
you more ?” 

“ Pray tell me more,” 

“ No, I will not, for I must commit others, and that 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 245 

Will not do,” replied I ; for I felt I liad already said too 
much. 

‘‘You have committed yourself, at all events,” replied Mel- 
chior ; “ and now I tell you, that until never mind,” and 

Melchior hastened away. 

The door was again locked, and I was once more alone. 

I had time to reflect upon my imprudence. The coun- 
tenance of Melchior, when he left me, was that of a demon. 
Something told me to prepare for death ; and I w^as not 
wrong. The next day Melchior came not, nor the next : my 
provisions were all gone. I had nothing but a little wine 
and water left. The idea struck me, that I was to die of 
starvation. Was there no means of escape ? None ; I had 
no w^eapon, no tool, not even a knife. I had expended all 
my candles. At last, it occurred to me, thatj although I 
was in a cellar, my voice might be heard, and T resolved, as 
a last elfort, to attempt it. I went to the door of the cellar, 
and shouted at the top of my lungs, “ Murder — ^murder I” I 
shouted again and again as loud as I could, until I was ex- 
hausted. As it afterwards appeared, this plan did prevent 
my being starved to death, for such was Melchior^s villanous 
intention. About an hour afterwards, I repeated my cries of 
“ Murder — ^murder I” and they were heard by the household, 
w’ho stated to Melchior, that there was some one shouting 
murder in the vaults below. That night, and all the next 
day, I repeated my cries occasionally. I was now quite cx: 
hausted ; I had been nearly two days without food, and my 
wine and water had all been drunk. I sat down with a 
parched mouth and heated brain, waiting till I could suffi- 
ciently recover my voice to repeat my cries, when I heard 
footsteps approaching. The key was again turned in the 
door, and a light appeared, carried by one of two men armed 
with large, sledge hammers. 

“It is then all over with me,” cried I ; “and 1 never shall 
And out who is my father. Come on murderers, and do your 
work. Do it quickly.” 


216 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


The tw<5 men advanced without speaking a word ; the 
foremost, who carried the lantern, laid it down at his feet, 
and raised his hammer with both hands, when the other 
behind him raised his weapon — and the foremost fell dead at 
his feet. 


CHAPTER XLYIII. 

IS FULL OF PERILOUS ADVENTURES, AND IN WHICH, THE READER MAY 
BE ASSURED, THERE IS MUCH MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE. 

“ Silence,” said a voice that I well knew, although his face was 
completely disguised. It was Timothy ! “ Silence, Japhet,” 

again whispered Timothy ; “ there is yet much danger, but I 
will save you or die. Take the hammer. Melchior is waiting 
outside.” Timothy put the lantern in the bin, so as to render 
it more dark, and led me towards the door, whispering, 
“ When he comes in, we will secure him.” 

Melchior soon made his appearance ; and as he entered the 
cellar, “ Is it all right ?” said he, going up to Timothy, and 
passing me. 

With one blow I felled him to the ground, and he lay insen- 
sible. “ That will do,” replied Timothy ; “ now we must be 
oir.” 

“Not till he takes my place,” replied I, as I shut the door 
and locked it. “Now he may learn what it is to starve to 
death.” 

I then followed Timothy, by a passage which led outside of 
the castle, through which he and his companion had been 
admitted. “ Our horses are close by,” said Timothy ; “ for we 
stipulated upon leaving the country after it w^as done.” 

It 'was just dark when we were safe out of the castle. We 
mounted our horses, and set off with all speed. We followed 
the high road to the post town to which I had been conveyed, 
and I determined to pull up at Mrs. M‘Shane’s, for I was so 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 


247 


exhausted that I could go no further. This was a measure 
which required precaution ; and as there was moonlight, I 
turned off the road before I entered the town, or village, as it 
ought to have been called, so that we dismounted at the back 
of Mrs. M‘Shane’s house. I went to the window of the bed- 
room where I had lain down, and tapped gently, again and 
again, and no answer. At last, Kathleen made her appear- 
ance. 

“ Gan I come in, Kathfeen said I ; I am almost dead 
with fatigue and exhaustion.” 

“ Yes,” replied she, “ I will open the back-door ; there is no 
one here to-night — ^it is too early for them.” 

I entered, followed by Timothy, and as I stepped over the 
threshold, I fainted. As soon as I recovered, Mrs. M ‘Shane 
led me up stairs into her room for security, and I was soon able 
to take the refreshment I so much required. I stated what had 
passed to Mrs. M'Shane and Kathleen, who were much shocked 
at the account. 

“ You had better wait till it is late, before you go on,” said 
Mrs. M‘Shane, “ it will be more safe ; it is now nine o’clock, 
and the people will all be moving till eleven. I will give your 
horses some corn, and when you are five miles from here, 
you may consider yourselves as safe. Holy saints I what an 
escape !” 

The advice was too good not to be followed ; and I was so 
exhausted, that I was glad that prudence was on the side of 
repose. I lay down on Mrs. M‘Shane’s bed, while Timothy 
watched over me. I had a short slumber, and then was 
awakened by the good landlady, who told me that it was time 
for us to quit. Kathleen then came up to me, and said, “ I 
would ask a favour of you, sir, and I hope you will not refuse 
it.” 

“ Kathleen, you may ask any thing of me, and depend upon 
it, I will not refuse it, if I can grant it.” 

“ Then, sir,” replied the good girl, “ you know how I over- 
rame my feelings to serve you, will you overcome yours for me ? 


248 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

I cannot bear the idea that any one, bad as he may be, of the 
family who have reared me, should perish in so miserable a 
manner ; and I cannot bear that any man, bad as he is, even 
if I did not feel obliged to him* should die so full of guilt, and 
without absolution. Will you let me have the key, that Sir 
Henry de Clare may be released after you are safe and away ? 
I know he does not deserve any kindness from you ; but it is 
a horrid death, and a horrid thing to die so loaded with 
crime.” 

“Kathleen,” replied I, “ I will keep my word with you. 
Here is the key ; take it up to-morrow morning and give it to 
Lady de Clare ; tell her Japhet Newland sent it.” 

“ I will, and God bless you, sir,” 

“ Good-bye, sir,” said Mrs. M'Shane : “ you have no time to 
lose.” 

“ God bless you, sir,” said Kathleen, who now put her anus 
round me, and kissed me. We mounted our horses and set off. 

We pressed our horses, or rather ponies, for they were very 
small, till we had gained about six miles, when we considered 
that we were, comparatively speaking, safe, and then drew up, 
to allow them to recover their wind. I was very much ex- 
hausted myself, and hardly spoke one word until we arrived at 
the next post town, when we found every body in bed. Wc 
contrwed, however, to knock them up ; and Timothy having 
seen that our horses were put into the stable, we lay down till 
the next morning upon a bed which happened to be unoccupied. 
Sorry as were the accommodations, I never slept so soundly, 
and woke quite refreshed. The next morning I stated my in- 
tention of posting to Dublin, and asked Tim what we should do 
with the horses. 

“ They belong to the castle,” replied he. 

“ Then in God’s name, let the castle have them, for I wish for 
nothing from that horrid place.” 

We stated to the landlord that the horses were to be sent 
back, and that the man who took them would be paid for his 
trouble ; and then it occurred to me that it would be a good 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


249 


opportunity of writing to Melchior, alias Sir Henry. I do not 
know why, but certainly my animosity against him had sub- 
sided, and I did not think of taking legal measures against him. 
I thought it, however, right to frighten him. I wrote, there- 
fore, as follows : — 

‘ Sir Henry, 

“ I send you back your horses with thanks, as they have 
enabled Timothy and me to escape from your clutches. Your 
reputation and your life now are in my power, and I will have 
ample revenge. The fact of your intending murder, will be fully 
proved by my friend Timothy, who was employed by you in 
disguise, and accompanied your gipsy. You cannot escape the 
sentence of the law. Prepare yourself, then, for the worst, as 
it is not my intention that you shall escape the disgraceful 
punishment due to your crimes. 

“ Yours, 

“Japhet Newland.” 

Having sealed this, and given it to the lad who was to return 
with the horses, we finished our breakfast, and took avpostchaise 
on for Dublin, where we arrived late in the evening. During 
our journey I requested Timothy to narrate what had passed, 
and by what fortunate chance he had been able to come so 
opportunely to my rescue. 

“If you recollect, Japhet,” replied Timothy, “you had re- 
ceived one or two letters from me relative to the movements of 
the gipsy, and stating his intention to carry off the little girl 
from the boarding-school. My last letter, in which I informed 
you that he had succeeded in gaining an entrance into the ladies 
school at Brentford, could not have reached you, as I found by 
your note that you had set off the same evening. The gipsy, 
whom I only knew by the name of Will, inquired of me the 
name by which the little girl was known, and my answer was 
Smith ; as I took it , for granted that, in a large seminary, there 
must be one, if not more, of that name. Acting upon this, lu 

11 * 


250 


JAI’HET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


made inquiries of the maid-servant to whom he paid his ad 
dresses, and made very handsome presents, if there was a Mis? 
Smith in the school ; she replied, that there were two, one a 
young lady of sixteen, and the other about twelve years old. 
Of course the one selected was the younger. Will had seen me 
in my livery, and his plan was to obtain a similar one, hire a 
chariot, and go down to Brentford, with a request that Miss 
Smith might be sent up with him immediately, as you were so 
ill that you were not expected to live ; but previous, to his 
taking this step, he wrote to Melchior, requesting his orders as 
to how he was to proceed when he had obtained the child. 
The answer from Melchior arrived. By this time, he had dis- 
covered that you were in Ireland, and intended to visit him; 
perhaps he had you in confinement, for I do not know how long 
you were there, but the answer desired Will to come over im- 
mediately, as there would be, in all probability, work for him, 
that would be well paid for. He had now become so intimate 
with me, that he disguised nothing : he showed me the letter, 
and I asked him what it meant ; he replied that there was some- 
body to put out of the way, that was clear. It immediately 
struck me that you must be the person, if such was the case, and 
I volunteered to go with him, to which, after some difficulty, 
he consented. We travelled outside the mail, and in four days 
we arrived at the castle. Will went up to Melchior, who told 
him what it was that he required. Will consented, and then 
stated he had another hand with him, which might be necessary, 
vouching for my doing any thing that was required. Melchior 
sent for me, and I certainly was afraid that he would discover 
me, but my disguise was too good. I had prepared for it still 
further, by wearing a wig of light hair : he asked me some 
questions, and I replied in a surly, dogged tone, which satisfied 
him. The reward was two hundred pounds, to be shared be- 
tween us ; and, as it was considered advisable that we should 
not be seen after the affair was over, by the people about the 
place, we had the horses provided for us. The rest you well 
know. I was willing to make sure that it was you before I 


JArllET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


251 


struck the scoundrel, and the first glimpse from the lantern, and 
your voice, convinced me. Thank God, Japhet, but I have 
been of some use to you, at all events.” 

“ My dear Tim, you have, indeed, and you know me too 
well, to think I shall ever forget it ; but now I must first 
ascertain where the will of the late Sir William is to be found. 
We can read it for a shilling, and then I may discover what 
are the grounds of Melchior’s conduct, for, to me, it is still 
inexplicable.” 

“ Are wills made in Ireland registered here, or at Doctor’s 
Commons in London. 

“ In Dublin, I should imagine.” 

But on my arrival at Dublin I felt so ill, that I was obliged 
to retire to bed, and before morning I was in a violent fever. 
Medical assistance was sent for, and I was nursed by Timothy 
with the greatest care, but it was ten days before I could quit 
my bed. For the first time, I was sitting in an easy chair by 
the fire, when Timothy came in with the little portmanteau I 
had left in the care of Mrs. M‘Shane. “ Open it, Timothy,” 
said I, “ and see if there be any thing in the way of a note 
from them.” Timothy opened the portmanteau, and produced 
one, which was lying on the top. It was from Kathleen, and 
as follows : — 

** Dear Sir 

“ They say there is terrible work at the castle, and that 
Sir Henry has blown out his brains, or cut his throat, I don’t 
know which. Mr. M'Dermott passed in a great hurry, but said 
nothing to any body here. I will send you word of what has 
taken place as soon as I can. The morning after you went away, 
I walked up to the castle and gave the key to the lady, who 
appeared in a great fright at Sir Henry not having been seen 
for so long a while. They wished to detain me after they had 
found him in the cellar with the dead man, but after two hours 
I was desired to go away, and hold my tongue. It was after 
the horses went back that Sir Henry is said to have destroved 


262 


JAl'HET, IN SEAllCri OF A FATHER. 


himself. I went np to the castle, but McDermott had given 
orders for no one to be let in on any account. 

“ Yours, 

“ Kathleen M'Shane.” 

'‘This is news, indeed,” said I, handing the letter to Timo- 
thy. “ It must have been my threatening letter which has 
driven him to this mad act.” 

“ Very likely,” replied Timothy ; “ but it was the best thing 
the scoundrel could do, after all.” 

“ The letter was not, however, written, -with that intention. 
I wished to frighten him, and have justice done to little Fleta 
— poor child ! how glad I shall be to sec her I” 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

ANOTHER INVESTIGATION RELATIVE TO A CHILD, WHICH, IN THE 
SAME WAY AS THE FORMER ONE, ENDS BY THE LADY GOING 
OFF IN A FIT. 

The next day the newspapers contained a paragraph, in v/hich 
Sir Henry de Clare was stated to have committed suicide. Ko 
reason could be assigned for this rash act, was the winding up 
of the intelligence. I also received another letter from Kath- 
leen M'Shane, confirming the previous accounts : her mother 
had been sent for to assist in laying out the body. There was 
now no further doubt, and as soon as I could venture out, 
I Hastened to the proper office, where I read the will of the 
late Sir William. It was very short, merely disposing of his 
personal property to his wife, and a few legacies ; for, as I ilis- 
covered, only a small portion of the estates were entailed with 
the title, and the remainder was not only to the heirs male. Tail 
the eldest female, should there be no male heir, with the pro- 
viso, that should she marry, the husband was to take upon 


JArHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 253 

nimself the name of De Clare. Here, then, was the mystery 
explained, and why Melchior had stolen away his brother’s 
child. Satisfied with my discovery, I determined to leave for 
England immediately, find out the Dowager-lady de Clare, and 
put the whole case into the hands of Mr. Masterton. For- 
tunately, Timothy had money with him sufiicient to pay all 
expenses, and take us to London, or I should have been 
obliged to wait for remittances, as mine was all expended 
before I arrived at Dublin. We arrived safe, and I imme- 
diately proceeded to my house, where I found Harcourt, who 
had been in great anxiety about me. The next morning I 
went to my old legal friend, to whom I communicated all that 
had happened.’ 

“ Well done, Newland,” replied he, after I had finished. 
“ I’ll bet ten to one that you find out your father. Your life 
already would not make a bad novel. If you continue your 
hair-breadth adventures in this way, it will be quite interesting.” 

Although satisfied in my own mind that I had discovered 
Fleta’s parentage, and anxious to impart the joyful intelligence, 
I resolved not to see her until every thing should be satisfac- 
torily arranged. The residence of the Dowager-lady de Clare 
was soon discovered by Mr. Masterton : it was at Richmond, 
and thither he and I proceeded. We were ushered into the 
drawing-room, and, to. my delight, upon her entrance, I per- 
ceived that it was the same beautiful person in whose ears I 
had seen the coral and gold ear-rings matching the necklace 
belonging to Fleta. I considered it better to allow Mr. Mas- 
terton to break the subject. 

“ You are, madam, the widow of the late Sir William de 
Clare.” The lady bowed. “You will excuse me, madam, but 
I have most important reasons for asking you a few questions, 
which otherwise may appear to be intrusive. Are you aware 
of the death of his brother. Sir Henry de Clare ?” 

“ Indeed I was not,” replied she. 1 seldom look at a 
paper, and I have long ceased to correspond with any one in 
freland. May I ask you what occasioned his death ?” 


254 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ He fell by his own hands, madam.” 

Lady de Clare covered up her face. “ God forgive him 1’’ 
said she, in a low voice. 

“ Lady de Clare, upon what terms were your husband and 
the late Sir Henry ? It is important to know.” 

“Not on the very best, sir. Indeed, latterly, for years, they 
never met or spoke ; we did not know what had become of 
him.” 

“Were there any grounds for ill-will ?” 

“ Many, sir, on the part of the elder brother ; but none on 
that of Sir Henry, who was treated with every kindness, until 

he ” Lady de Clare stopped — “ until he behaved very ill 

to him.” 

As we afterwards discovered, Henry de Clare had squan- 
dered away the small portion left him by his father, and had 
ever after that been liberally supplied by his eldest brother, 
until he had attempted to seduce Lady de Clare, upon which 
he w^as dismissed for ever. 

“ And now, madam, I must revert to a painful subject. You 
had a daughter by your marriage ?” 

“ Yes,” replied the lady, with a deep sigh. 

“ How did you lose her ? Pray do not think I am creating 
this distress on your part without strong reasons.” 

“ She was playing in the garden, and the nurse, who thought 
it rather cold, ran in for a minute to get a handkerchief to tie 
round her neck. When the nurse returned, the child had dis- 
appeared.” Lady de Clare put her handkerchief up to her 
eyes. 

“Where did you find her afterwards ?” 

“ It was not until three weeks afterwards that her body was 
found in a pond about a quarter of a mile off.” 

“ Did the nurse not seek her when she discovered that she 
was not in the garden ?” 

“She did, and immediately ran in that direction. It is 
quite strange that the child could have got so far without the 
nurse perceiving her.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


255 


“ How long is it ago ?” 

“ It is now nine years.^ 

“ And the age of the child at the same time 
About six years old.” 

“ I think, Newland, you may now speak to Lady de Clare.” 

“ Lady de Clare, have you not a pair of ear-rings of coral 
and gold of very remarkable workmanship ?” 

“ I have, sir,” replied she with surprise. 

“Had you not a necklace of the same? and if so, will you 
do me the favour to examine this?” I presented the neck- 
lace. 

“ Merciful heaven I” cried Lady de Clare, “it is the very 
necklace I — it was on my poor Cecilia when she was drowned, 
and it was not found with the body. How came it into your 
possession, sir ? At one time,” continued Lady de Clare, weep- 
ing, “ I thought that it was possible that the temptation of the 
necklace, which has a great deal of gold in it, must, as it was 
not found on her corpse, have been inducement for the gipsies, 
who were in the neighbourhood, to drown her; but Sir William 
would not believe it, rather supposing that in her struggles in 
the water she must have broken it, and that it had thus been 
detached from her neck. Is it to return this unfortunate neck- 
lace that you have come here ?” 

“No, madam, not altogether. Had you two white ponies 
at that time ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Was there a mulberry tree in the garden?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied the astonished lady. 

“ Will you do me the favour to describe the appearance of 
your child as she was, at the time that you lost her ?” 

“ She was — but all mothers are partial, and perhaps I may 
also be so — a very fair, lovely little girl.” 

“ With light hair, I presume ?” 

“ Yes, sir. But why these questions ? Surely you cannot 
ask them for nothing,” continued she, hurriedly. “ Tell me, sir, 
why all those questions I” 


256 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


•Mr. Masterton replied, “ Because, madam, we have some 
hopes that you have been deceived, and that it is possible that 
your daughter was not drowned.” 

Lady de Clare, breathless and her mouth open, fixed her 
eyes upon Mr. Masterton, and exclaimed, “Not drowned I 0 
my God I my head I” and then she fell back insensible. 

“ I have been too precipitate,” said Mr. Masterton, going to 
her assistance ; “ but joy does not kill. Bing for some water, 
Japhet.” 


CHAPTER L.. 

IN WHICH IF THE READER DOES NOT SYMPATHISE WITH THE PAR- 
TIES, HE HAD BETTER SHUT THE BOOK. 

In a few minutes Lady de Clare was sufficiently recovered to 
hear the outline of our history ; and as soon as it was over, 
she insisted upon immediately going with us to the school where 
Fleta was domiciled, as she could ascertain, by several marks 
known but to a nurse or mother, if more evidence was required, 
whether Fleta was her child or not. To allow her to remain 
in such a state of anxiety was impossible, Mr. Masterton agreed, 

and we posted to , where we arrived in the evening. 

“Now, gentlemen, leave me but one minute with the child, and 
when I ring the bell, you may enter.” Lady de Clare was in 
so nervous and agitated a state, that she could not walk into 
the pai^our without assistance. We led her to a chair, and in 
a minute Fleta was called down. Perceiving me in the passage,* 
v'he ran to me. “ Stop, my dear Fleta, there is a lady in the 
parlour, who wishes to see you.” 

“ A lady, Japhet ?” 

“ Yes, my dear, go in.” 

• Fleta obeyed, and in a minute we heard a scream, and Fleta 
hastily opened the door, “ Quick I Quick I the lady has fallen 
down.” 


JArnET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


251 


We ran in and found Lady de Clare on the floor, and it was 
some time before she returned to her senses. As soon as she 
did, she fell down on her knees, holding up her hands as in 
prayer, and then stretched her arms out to Fleta. “ My child ! 
my long lost child ! it is — it is, indeed I” A flood of tears 
poured forth on Fleta’s neck relieved her, and we then left 
them together ; old Masterton observing, as we took our seats 

in the back parlour, “By G , Japhet, you deserve to find 

your own father I” 

In about an hour Lady de Clare requested to see us. Fleta 
rushed into my arms and sobbed, while her mother apologised 
to Mr. Masterton for the delay and excusable neglect towards 
hinT. “ Mr. Newland, madam, is the person to whom you are 
indebted for your present happiness. I will now, if you please, 
take my leave, and wdll call upon you to-morrow.” 

“ I will not detain you, Mr. Masterton ; but Mr. Newland 
will, I trust, come home with Cecilia and me ; I have much to 
ask of him.” I consented, and Mr. Masterton w'ent back to 
towm ; I went to the principal hotel to order a chaise and 
horses, while Fleta packed up her wardrobe. 

In half an hour we set off, and it was midnight before W’e 
arrived at Richmond. During my journey I narrated to Lady 
de Clare every particular of our meeting with Fleta. We were 
all glad to go to bed ; and the kind manner in which Lady de 
Clare wished me good night, with “God bless you, Mr. New’- 
land I” brought the tears into my eyes. 

I breakfasted alone the next morning. Lady de Clare and 
her daughter remaining up stairs. It was nearly twelve o’clock 
w^hen they made their appearance, both so apparently happy, 
that I could not help thinking, “ When shall I have such plea- 
sure — w’hen shall I find out who is my father ?” My brow was 
clouded as the thought entered my mind, when Lady de Clare 
requested that I would inform her who it was to whom she and 
her daughter were under such eternal obligations. I had then 
to narrate my own eventful history, most of which was as new 
to Cecilia (as she now must be called) as it was to her mother. 


258 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


I had Just terminated the escape from the castle, when Mr 
Masterton’s carriage drove up to the door. As soon as he had 
bowed to Lady de Glare, he said to me, “ Japhet, here is a 
letter directed to you, to my care, from Ireland, which I have 
brought for you.^^ 

“ It is from Kathleen M‘Shane, sir,” replied I, and requesting 
leave, I broke the seal. It contained another. I read Kath- 
leen’s, and then hastily opened the other. It was from Nattee, 
or Lady H. de Clare, and ran as follows : — 

“Japhet Newland, — Fleta is the daughter of Sir William 
de Clare. Dearly has my husband paid for his act of folly and 
wickedness and to which you must know I never was a party. . 

“ Yours, 

“ Nattee.” 

The letter from Kathleen added more strange information. 
Lady de Clare, after the funeral of her husband, had sent for 
the steward, made every necessary arrangement, discharged 
the servants, and then had herself disappeared, no one knew 
whither ; but it was reported that somebody very much resem- 
bling her had been seen travelling south in company with a 
gang of gipsies. I handed both letters over to Lady de Clare 
and Mr. Masterton. 

“ Poor Lady de Clare I” observed the mother. 

“Nattee will never leave her tribe,” observed Cecilia qui- 
etly. 

“ You are right, my dear,” replied I. “ She will be happier 
with her tribe, where she commands as a queen, than ever she 
was at the castle.” 

Mr. Masterton then entered into a detail with Lady de Clare 
as to what steps ought immediately to be taken, as the heirs-at- 
law would otherwise give some trouble ; and having obtained 
her acquiescence, it was time to withdraw. “Mr. Newland, I 
trust you will consider us as your warmest friends. I am so 
much in your debt, that I never can repay you ; but I am als^ 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


259 


in your debt in a pecuniary way — that, at least, you must per- 
mit me to refund.” 

When I require it. Lady de Clare,' I will accept it. Do 
not, pray, vex me by the proposition. I have not much happi- 
ness as it is, although I am rejoiced at yours and that of your 
daughter.” 

“ Come, Lady de Clare, I must not allow you to tease my 
protege ; you donot know how sensitive he is. We will now 
take our leave.” 

You will soon come,” said Cecilia, looking anxiously 
at me. 

‘‘^You have your mother, Cecilia,” replied I ; “ what can 
you wish for more ? I am a — nobody — without a parent.” 

Cecilia burst into tears : I embraced her, and Mr. Masterton 
and I left the room. 


CHAPTER LI. 

I RETURN TO THE GAY WORLD, BUT AM NOT WELL RECEIVED ; I AM 
QUITE DISGUSTED WITH IT AND HONESTY, AND EVERY THING ELSE. 

How strange, now that I had succeeded in the next dearest 
object of my wishes, after ascertaining my own parentage, that 
I should have felt so miserable ; but it was the fact, and I can- 
not deny it. I could hardly answer Mr. Masterton during our 
journey to town ; and when I thraw myself on the sofa in my 
own room, I felt as if I was desolate and deserted. I did not 
repine at Cecilia’s happiness ; so far from it, I would have sacri- 
ficed my life for her ; but she was a creature of my own — one 
of the objects in this world to which I was endeared — one that 
had been dependent on me and loved me. Now that she was 
restored to her parent, she rose above me, and I was left still 
more desolate. I do not know that I ever passed a week of 
such misery ai the one which followed a denouement productive 


260 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


of SO much happiness to others, and which had been sought 
vrith so much eagerness, and at so much risk, by myself. It 
was no feeling of envy, God knows ; but it appeared to me as 
if every one in the world was to be made happy except myself. 
Rut I had more to bear up against. 

When I had quitted for Ireland, it was still supposed that I 
was a young man of large fortune — the truth had not been told. 
I had acceded to Mr. Masterton’s suggestions, that I was no 
longer to appear under false colours, and had requested Har- 
court, to whom I made known my real condition, that he would 
every where state the truth. News like this flies like wildfire : 
there w'ere too many whom, perhaps, when under the patronage 
of Major Carbonnell, and the universal rapture from my sup- 
posed wealth, I had treated with hauteur, glad to receive the 
intelligence^ and spread it far and wide. My imposition, as 
they pleased to term it, was the theme of every party, and 
many were the indignant remarks of the dowagers who had so 
often indirectly proposed to me their daughters ; and if there 
was any one more virulent than the rest, I hardly need say that 
it was Lady Maelstrom, who nearly killed her job horses in 
driving about from one acquaintance to another, to represent 
my unheard-of atrocity in presuming to deceive my betters. 
Harcourt, who had agreed to live with me — Harcourt, who 
had praised my magnanimity in making the disclosure — even 
Harcourt fell off ; and about a fortnight after I had arrived in 
town, told me that not finding the lodgings so convenient as 
his former abode, he intended to return to it. He took a 
friendly leave ; but I perceived that if we happened to meet in 
the streets, he often contrived to be looking another way ; and 
at last, a slight recognition was all that I received. Satisfied 
that it was intended, I no longer noticed him : he followed but 
the example of others. So great was the outcry raised by 
those who had hoped to have secured me as a good match, that 
any young man of fashion who was seen with me, had, by many, 
his name erased from their visiting lists. This decided my fate, 
and I was alone. Lor some time I bore up proudly ; I returned 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


261 


a glance of defiance, but this could not last. The treatment 
of others received a slight check from the kindness of Lord 
AVTndermear, who repeatedly asked me to his table ; but I per- 
ceived that even there, although sulfered as a protege of his 
lordship, any thing more than common civility was studiously 
avoided, in order that no intimacy might result. Mr. Master- 
ton, upon whom I occasionally called, saw that I was unwell 
and unhappy. He encouraged me ; but, alas ! a man must be 
more than mortal, who, with fine feelings, can endure the scorn 
of the world. Timothy, poor fellow, who witnessed more of my 
unhappy state of mind than any body else, offered in vain his 
consolation. “ And this,” thought I, ‘‘ is the reward of virtue 
and honesty. Truly, virtue is its own reward, for it obtains no 
other. As long as I was under false colours, allowing the 
world to deceive themselves, I was courted and flattered. Kow 
that I have thrown off the mask, and put on the raiment of 
truth, I am a despised, miserable being. Yes ; but is not this 
my own fault ? Did I not, by my own deception, bring all this 
upon myself ? Whether unmasked by others, or by myself, is 
it not equally true that I have been playing false, and am now 
punished for it ? What do the world care for your having 
returned to truth ? You have offended by deceiving them, and 
that is an offence which your repentance will not extenuate.” 
It was but too true, I had brought it all on myself, and this 
reflection increased my misery. For my dishonesty, I had been 
justly and severely punished : whether I was ever to be rewarded 
for my subsequent honesty still remained to be proved ; but I 
knew very well that most people would have written off such a 
reward as a bad debt. 

Once I consulted with Mr. Master ton as to the chance of 
there being any information relative to my birth in the packet 
left in the charge of Mr. Cophagus. “ I have been thinking 
over it, my dear Newland,” said he, “ and I wish I could give 
you any hopes, but I cannot. Having succeeded with regard to 
your little protdge, you are now so sanguine with respect to 
yourself, that a trifle light as air is magnified, as the poet says 


2G2 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


‘ into confirmation strong as holy writ/ Now, consider, some 
body calls at the Foundling to ask after you — which I acknow 
ledge to be a satisfactory point — his name is taken down by an 
illiterate brute, as Derbennon ; but how you can decide upon 
the real name, and assume it is De Benyon, is really more than 
I can imagine, allowing every scope to fancy. It is in the first 
instance, therefore, you are at fault, as there are many other 
names which may have been given by the party who called; 
nay, more, is it at all certain that the party, in a case like this, 
would give his real name ? Let us follow it up. Allowing the 
name to have been Be Benyon, you discover that one brother 
is not married, and that there are some papers belonging t?) 
him in the possession of an old woman who dies ; and upon 
these slight grounds what would you attempt to establish ? that 
because that person was known not to have married, therefore 
hz was marrkd (for you are stated to have been born in wed- 
lock); and because there is a packet of papers belonging to 
him in the possession of another party,* that this packet of 
papers must refer to you. Do you not perceive how you are led 
away by your excited feelings on the subject 

I could not deny that Mr. Masterton^s arguments had demo- 
lished the whole fabric which I had built up. “ You are right, 
sir,” replied I mournfully. “ I wish I were dead.” 

“ Never speak in that way, Mr. Newland, before me,” replied 
the old lawyer in an angry tone, without you wish to forfeit 
my good opinion.” 

“ I beg your pardon, sir ; but I am most miserable. I am 
avoided by all who know me — thrown out of all society — 1 
have not a parent or a relative. Isolated being as I am, what 
have I to live for ?” 

“ My dear fellow, you are not twenty-three years of age,” 
replied Mr. Masterton, “ and you have made two sincere 
friends, both powerful in their own way. I mean Lord Win- 
dermear and myself : and you have had the pleasure of making 
others happy. Believe me, that is much to have accomplished 
at so early an age. You have much to live for — live to gain 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


263 


more friends — ^live to gain reputation — live to do good— to be 
grateful for the benefits you have received, and to be humble 
when chastened by Providence. You have yet to learn where, 
and only where, true happiness is to be found. Since you are 
so much out of spirits, go down to Lady de Clare’s, see her 
happiness, and that of her little girl ; and then, when you 
reflect that it was your own work, you will hardly say, that 
you have lived in vain.” I was too much overpowered to speak. 
After a pause, Mr. Masterton continued, “When did you see 
them last ?” 

“ I have never seen them, sir, since I was with you at their 
meeting.” 

“ What I have you not called — now nearly two months ? 
Japhet, you are wrong : they will be hurt at your neglect and 
want of kindness. Have you written or heard from them ?” 

“ I have received one or two pressing invitations, sir, but I 
have not been in a state of mind to avail myself of their polite- 
ness.” 

“ Politeness I you were wrong — all wrong — Japhet. Your 
mind is cankered, or you never would have used that term. I 
thought you were composed of better materials ; but it appears 
that although you can sail with a fair wind, you cannot buffet 
against an adverse gale. Because you are no longer fooled and 
flattered by the interested and the designing, like many others 
70U have quarrelled with the world. Is it not so ?” 

“ Perhaps you are right, sir.” 

“ I know that I am right, and that you are wrong. Now I 
shall be seriously displeased if you do not go down and sec 
Lady de Clare and her daughter, as soon as you can.” 

“ I will obey your orders, sir.” 

“ My wishes, Japhet, not my orders. Let me see you wheu 
you return. You must no longer be idle. Consider, that you 
are about to recommence your carreer in life ; that hitherto 
you have pursued the wrong path, from which you have nobly 
returned. You must prepare for exertions, and learn to trust to 
G od and a good conscience. Lord Windermear and I had a 


2G4 


APIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


long conversation relative to you yesterday evening ; and when 
you come back, I will detail to you what are our views respect- 
ing your future advantage.” 


CHAPTER LII. 

A NEW CHARACTER APPEARS, BUT NOT A VERY AMIABLE ONE J BUT I 

ATTACH MYSELF TO HIM, AS DROWNING MEN CATCH AT STRAWS. 

I TOOK my leave, more composed in mind, and the next day 
I went down to Lady de Clare’s. I was kindly received, more 
than kindly, I was affectionately and parentally received by the 
mother, and by Cecilia as a dear brother ; but they perceived 
my melancholy, and when they had upbraided me for my long 
neglect, they inquired the cause. As I had already made Lady 
de Clare acquainted with my previous history, I had no secrets; 
in fact, it was a consolation to confide my griefs to them. Lord 
Windermear was too much above me — Mr. Masterton was too 
matter-of-fact — Timothy was too inferior — and they were all 
men ; but the kind soothing of a woman was peculiarly grate- 
ful, and after a sojourn of three days, I. took my leave, with my 
mind much less depressed than when I arrived. 

On my return, I called upon Mr. Masterton, who stated to 
me that Lord Windermear was anxious to serve me, and that 
he would exert his interest in any way which might be most 
congenial to my feelings ; that he would procure me a commis- 
sion in the army, or a writership to India ; or, if I preferred it, 
I might study the law under the auspices of Mr. Masterton. If 
none of these propositions suited me, I might state what would 
be preferred, and that, as far as his interest and pecuniary 
assistance could avail, I might depend on it. “ So now, Japhet, 
you may go home and reflect seriously upon these offers ; and 
when you have made up your mind what course you will steer, 
you have only to let me know.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER, 265 

I returned my tlianks to Mr. Masterton, and begged that he 
would convey my grateful acknowledgments to his lordship. 
As I walked home, I met a Captain Atkinson, a man of very 
doubtful character, whom, by the advice of Carbonnell, I had 
always kept at a distance. He had lost a large fortune by 
gambling, and having been pigeoned, had, as usual, ended by 
becoming a rook. He was a fashionable, well-looking man, of 
good family, suffered in society, for he had found out that it 
was necessary to hold his position by main force. He' was a 
noted duellist, had killed his three or four men, and a cut direct 
from any person was, with him, sufficient grounds for sending a 
friend. Every body was civil to him, because no one wished to 
quarrel with him. 

“ My dear Mr. Newland,’^ said he, offering his hand, “I am ■ 
delighted to see you ; I have heard at the clubs of your misfor- 
tune, and there were some free remarks made by some. I have 
great pleasure in saying that I put an immediate stop to them, 
by telling them that, if they were repeated in my presence, I 
should consider it as a personal quarrel.” 

Three months before, had I met Captain Atkinson, I should 
have returned his bow with studied politeness, and have left 
him ; but how changed were my feelings ! I took his hand, and 
shook it warmly. 

“ My dear sir,” replied I, “ I am very much obliged for your 
kind and considerate conduct ; there are more who are inclined 
to calumniate than to defend.” 

“And always will be in this world, Mr. Newland ; but I 
have a fellow feeling. I recollect how I was received and flat- 
tered when I was introduced as a young man of fortune, and 
how I was deserted and neglected when I was cleaned out. I 
know now why they are so civil to me, and I value their civility 
at just as much as it is worth. Will you accept my arm : — I 
am going your way.” 

I could not refuse ; but I coloured when I took it, for I felt 
that I was not adding to my reputation by being seen in his 
company ; and still I felt that although not adding to my re- 

12 


266 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 

putation, I was less likely to receive insult, and that the same 
cause which induced them to be civil to him, would perhaps 
operate when they found me allied with -^him. “Be it so,” 
thought I, “ I will, if possible, extort politeness.” 

We were strolling down Bond Street, when we met a young 
man, well known in the fashionable circles, who had dropped 
my acquaintance, after having been formerly most pressing* to 
obtain it. Atkinson faced him. “ Good morning, Mr. Ox- 
berry.” 

“ Good morning. Captain Atkinson,” replied Mr. Oxberry. 

“ I thought you knew my friend Mr. Newland ?” observed 
Atkinson, rather fiercely. 

“ Oh I really — I quite — I beg pardon. Good morning, Mr. 
Newland ; you have been long absent. I did not see you at 
Lady Maelstrom’s last night.” 

“ No,” replied I, carelessly, “ nor will you ever. When you 
next see her ladyship, ask her, with my compliments, whether 
she has had another fainting fit.” 

I shall certainly have great pleasure in carrying your mes 
sage, Mr. Newland — good morning.” 

“That fool,” observed Atkinson, “will now run all over 
town, and you will see the consequence.” 

* We met one or two others, and to them Atkinson put the 
same question, “ I thought you knew m^r friend Mr. Newland ?” 
At last, just as we arrived at my own house in St. James’s 
Street, who should we meet but Harcourt. Harcourt immedi- 
ately perceived me, and bowed low as he passed on, so that his 
bow would have served for both ; but Atkinson stopped. “ I 
must beg your pardon, Harcourt, for detaining you a moment, 
but what are the odds upon the Vestris colt for the Derby ?” 

“ Dpon my word. Captain Atkinson, I was told, but I have 
forgotten.” 

“You memory appears bad, for you have also forgotten your 
old friend, Mr. Newland.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Mr. Newland.” 

“There is no occasion to beg my pardon, Mr. Harcourt,’' 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


261 


luterrupted I ; “for I tell you plainly, that I despise you 
too much to ever wish to be acquainted with you. You will 
oblige me, sir, by never presuming to touch your hat, or other- 
wise notice me.” 

Harcourt coloured, and started back. “ Such language. 
Mr. Newland ” 

“ Is what you deserve : ask your own conscience. Leave us, 
sir and I walked on with Captain Atkinson. 

“You have done well, Newland,” observed Atkinson : “he 
cannot submit to that language, for he knows that I have heard 
it. A meeting you will of course have no objection to. It will 
be of immense advantage to you.” 

“None whatever,” replied I ; “for if there is any one man 
who deserves to be punished for his conduct towards me, it 
is Harcourt. Will you come up, Captain Atkinson, and, if not 
better engaged, take a quiet dinner and a bottle of wine with 
me ?” 

Our conversation during dinner was desultory ; but after the 
first bottle, Atkinson became communicative, and his history 
not only made me feel better inclined towards him, but afforded 
me another instance, as well as CarbonnelPs, how often it is 
that those who would have done well are first plundered, and 
then driven to desperation by the heartlessness of the world- 
The cases, however, had this difference, that Carbonnell had 
always contrived to keep his reputation above water, while that 
of Atkinson was gone, and never to be re-established. We had 
just finished our wine when a note was brought from Harcourt, 
informing me that he should send a friend the next morning for 
an explanation of my conduct. I handed it over to Atkinson. 
“ My dear sir, I am at your service,” replied he, “ without 
you have any body among your acquaintances whom you may 
[)refer.” 

“ Thank you,” replied I, “ Captain Atkinson : it cannot be in 
better hands.” 

“ That is settled, then ; and now where shall we go ?” 

“ Wherever you please.” 


268 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ Then I shall try if I can win a little money to-night : if you 
eome you need not play — you can look on. It will servo to 
divert your thoughts, at all events.” 

I felt so anxious to avoid reflection, that I immediately 
accepted his offer ; and, in a few minutes, we were in the well- 
lighted room, and in front of the rvuge et noir table, covered 
with gold and bank notes. Atkinson did not commence his 
play immediately, but pricked the chances on a card as they 
ran. After half an hour he laid down his stakes, and was 
fortunate. I could no longer withstand the temptation, and 
I backed him ; in less than an hour we both had won con- 
siderably.” 

“ That is enough,” said he to me, sweeping up his money ; 

“ we must not try the slippery dame too long.” 

I followed his example, and shortly afterwards we quitted the 
house. “ I will walk home vdth you, Newland : never, if you 
can help it, especially if you have been a winner, leave a gaming 
house alone.” 

Going home, I asked Atkinson if he would come up ; he 
did so, and then we examined our winnings. “ I know mine,” 
replied he, “ within twenty pounds, for I always leave off at^ 
a certain point. I have three hundred pounds, and something 
more.” 

He had won three hundred and twenty-five pounds. I had 
v/on ninety pounds. As we sat over a glass of brandy and 
water, I inquired whether he was always fortunate. “ No 
of course I am not,” replied Atkinson ; ‘‘ but on the whole 
in the course of the year, I am a winner of sufficient to support 
myself.” 

“ Is there any rule by which people are guided who play ? 

I observed many of those who were seated pricking the chances 
with great care, and then staking their money at intervals.” 

et noir I believe to be the fairest of all games,” 
replied Atkinson ; “ but where there is a per centage invariably 
ill favour of the bank, although one may win and another lose, 
still the profits must be in favour of the bank. If a man were 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


269 


to play all the year round, he would lose the national debt in 
the end. As for martingales, and all those calculations, which 
you observed them so busy with, they are all useless. I have 
tried everything, and there is only one chance of success, but 
then you must not be a gambhrP 

“ Not a gambler 

“ No ; you must not be carried away by the excitement of 
the game, or you will infallibly lose. You must have a 
strength of mind which few have, or you will be soon cleaned 
out.” 

“ But you say that you win on the whole : have you no rule 
to guide you ?” 

‘‘ Yes, I have : strange as the chances are, I have been so 
accustomed to them, that I generally put down my stake right : 
when I am once in a run of luck, I have a method of my own, 
but what it is I cannot tell ; only this I know, that if I depart 
from it I always lose my money. But that is what you may 
call good luck, or what you please — it is not a rule.” 

“ Where, then, are your rules ?” 

“ Simply these two. The first it is not difficult to adhere 
to : I make a rule never to lose but a certain sum if I am 
unlucky when I commence — say twenty stakes, whatever may 
be the amount of the stake that you play. This rule is easily 
adhered to, by not taking more money with you ; and I am not 
one of those to whom the croupier or porters will lend money. 
The second rule is the most difficult, and decides whether you 
are a gambler or not. I make a rule always to leave off when 
I have won a certain sum — or even before, if the chances of my 
game fluctuate. There is the difficulty : it appears very foolish 
not to follow up luck ; but the fact is, fortune is so capricious, 
that if you trust her more than an hour, she will desert you. 
This is my mode of play, and with me it answers ; but it does 
not follow that it would answer with another. But it is very 
ate, or rather, very early — I wish you a good night.” 


270 


JAPHET IN SEARCH OF A FATHER, 


CHAPTER LIII. 

I BECOME PRINCIPAL INSTEAD OF SECOND IN A DUEL, AND RISK MY 

OWN AND another’s LIFE, MY OWN AND OTHERS’ HAPPINESS AND 

PEACE OF MIND, BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN PUNISHED AS I DESERVED 

After Captain Atkinson had left me, I stated to Timothy what 
had passed. “ And do you think you will have to fight a duel, 
sir ?” cried Timothy, with alarm. 

“ There is no doubt of it,” replied I. 

“You never will find your father, sir, if you go on this 
way,” said Timothy, as if to divert my attention from such a 
purpose. 

“ Not in this world, perhaps, Tim ; perhaps I may be sent 
the right road by a bullet, and find him in the next.” 

“ Do you think your father, if dead, has gone to heaven ?” 

“ I hope so, Timothy.” 

“ Then what chance have you of meeting him, if you go out 
of the world attempting the life of your old friend ?” 

“ That is what you call a poser, my dear Timothy, but I can- 
not help myself : this I can safely say, that I have no animosity 
against Mr. Harcourt — at least, not sufficient to have any wish 
to take away his life.” 

“Well, that’s something, to be sure; but do you know, 
Japhet, Pm not quite sure you hit the right road when you set 
up for a gentleman.” 

“No, Timothy, no man can be in the right road who 
deceives : I have been all wrong, and I am afraid I am going 
from worse to worse ; but I cannot moralize, I must go to 
sleep, and forget everything if I can.” 

The next morning, about eleven o’clock, a Mr. Cotgrave 
called upon me on the part of Harcourt. I referred him to 
Captain Atkinson, and he bowed and quitted the room. Cap- 
tain Atkinson soon called : he had remained at home expecting 
the message, and had made every arrangement with the second. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 271 

He stayed with me the whole day. The major’s pistols were 
examined and approved of. We dined, drank freely, and he 
•afterwards proposed that I should accompany him to one of 
the hells, as they are called. This I refused, as I had some 
arrangements to make; and as soon as he was gone I sent for 
Timothy. 

“ Tim,” said I, “ if I should be unlucky to-morrow, you are 
my executor and residuary legatee. My will was made when 
in Dublin, and is in the charge of Mr. Cophagus.” 

“ Japhet, I hope you will allow me one favour,^ which is, to 
go to the ground with you. I had rather be there than remain 
here in suspense.” 

“ Of course, my dear fellow, if you wish it,” replied I; “but 
I must go to bed, as I am to be called at four o’clock — so let’s 
have no sentimentalising or sermonising. .Good night, God 
bless you.” 

I was, at that time, in a state of mind which made me reck- 
less of life or of consequences; stung by the treatment which I 
received, mad with the world’s contumely, I was desperate. 
True it was, as Mr. Master ton said, I had not courage to buffet 
against an adverse gale. Timothy did not go to bed, and at 
four o’clock was at my side. I rose, dressed myself with the 
greatest care, and was soon joined by Captain Atkinson. We 
then set off in a hackney-coach to the same spot to which I had, 
but a few months before, driven with poor Carbonnell. His 
memory and his death came like a cloud over my mind, but it 
was but for a moment. I cared little for life. Harcourt and 
his second were on the ground a few minutes before us. Each 
party saluted politely, and the seconds proceeded to business. 
We fired, and Harcourt fell, with a bullet above his knee. I 
went up to him, and he extended his hand. “Newland,” said 
he, “ I have deserved this. I was a coward, in the first place, 
to desert ypu as I did — and a coward, in the second, to fire at 
a man whom I had injured. Gentlemen,” continued he, appeal- 
ing to, the seconds, “ recollect, I, before you, acquit ' Mr 
Xewland of all blame, and desire, if any further accident should 


272 ■ JAPIIEl’, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

happen to mo, that mj relations will take no steps whatevei 
against him,” 

Ilarcourt was very pale, and bleeding fast. Without any 
answxr I examined the wound, and found, by the colour of the 
blood, and its gushing, that an artery had been divided. My 
professional. knowledge saved his life. I compressed the artery, 
while I gave directions to the others. A handkerchief was tied 
light round his thigh, above the wound — a round stone selected, 
and placed under the handkerchief, in the femoral groove, and 
the ramrod of one of the pistols then made use of as a winch, 
until the whole acted as a tourniquet. I removed my thumbs, 
found that. the hemorrhage was stopped, and then directed that 
he should be taken home on a door, and surgical assistance im- 
mediately sent for. 

“ You appear to understand these things, sir,” said Mr. Cot- 
grave. “ Tell me, is there any danger ?” 

“ He must suffer amputation,” replied I, in a low voice, so 
that Harcourt could not hear me. “ Pray watch the tourni- 
quet carefully as he is taken home, for should it slip it will be 
fatal.” 

I then bowed to Mr. Cotgrave, and, followed by Captain 
Atkinson, stepped into the hackney-coach and drove home. “ I 
will leave you now, Yewland,” said Captain Atkinson; “it is 
necessary that I talk this matter over, so that it is properly 
explained.” 

I thanked Captain Atkinson for his services, and was left 
alone, for I had. sent Timothy to ascertam" if Harcourt had 
arrived safe at his lodgings. Never did I feel more miserable; 
my anxiety for Harcourt was indescribable; true, he had not 
treated me well, but I thought of his venerable father, who 
pressed my hand so warmly when I left his hospitable roof — of 
his lovely sisters, and the kindness and affection which they 
had shown towards me, and our extreme intimacy. I thought 
of the pain which the intelligence would give them, and their 
indignation towards me, when their brother first made his ap- 
pearance at his father’s house, mutilated ; and were he to die- 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


273 


good God 1 I was maddened at the idea. I bad now undone 
the little good I had been able to do. If I had made Fleta 
and her mother happy, had I not plunged another family into 
misery ? 


CHAPTER LIY 

THIS IS A STRANGE WORLD ; I AM CUT BY A MAN OF NO CHARACTER, 
BECAUSE HE IS FEARFUL THAT I SHOULD INJURE HIS CHARACTER. 

Timothy returned, and brought me consolation — the bleeding 
had not re-commenced, and Harcourt was in tolerable spirits. 
An eminent surgeon had been sent for. “Go again, my dear 
Timothy, and as you are intimate with Harcourt’s servant, you 
will be able to find out what they are about.” 

Timothy departed, and was absent about an hour, during 
which I lay on the sofa, and groaned with anguish. When he 
returned, I knew by his face that his intelligence was favour- 
able. 

“All’s right,” cried Timothy ; “no amputation after all. . It 
was only one of the smaller arteries which was severed, and 
they have taken it up.” 

I sprang up from the sofa and embraced Timothy, so happy 
was I with the intelligence, and then I sat down again, and 
cried like a child. At last I became more composed. I had 
asked Captain Atkinson to dine with me, and was very glad 
when he came. He confirmed Timothy’s report, and I was so 
overjoyed, that I sat late at dinner, drinking very freely, and 
when he again proposed that we should go to the rougt et noir 
table, I did not refuse — on the contrary, flushed with wine, I 
was anxious to g^, and took all the money that I had with me. 
On our arrival Atkinson played, but finding that he was not 
fortunate, he very soon left off. As I had followed his game, I 
also had lost considerably, and he entreated me not to play any 

12 '^ 


274 JAPHET, IN SEAPvCH OF A FATHER. 

more — but 1 was a gamester, it appeared, and I would not jDaj 
attention to him, and did not quit the table until I had lost 
every shilling in my pocket. I left the house in no very good 
humour, and Atkinson, who had waited for me, accompanied 
me home. 

“ Newland,^’ said he, “I don’t know what you may think of 
me — you may have heard that I’m a roue, &c., &c., &c., but 
this I always do, which is, caution those who are gamesters from 
their hearts. I have watched you to-night, and I tell you, that 
you will be ruined if you continue to frequent that table. You 
have no command over yourself. I do not know what your 
means may be, but this I do know, that if you were a Croesus, 
you will be a beggar. I cared nothing for you while you were 
the Mr. Newland, the admired, and leader of the fashion ; but 
I felt for you when I heard that you were scouted from society, 
merely because it was found out that you were not so rich as 
you were supposed to be. I had a fellow feeling, as I told you, 
I did not make your acquaintance to win your money — I can 
win as much as I wish from the scoundrels who keep the tables, 
or from those who would not scruple to plunder others ; and I 
now entreat you not to return to that place — and am sorry, 
very sorry, that ever I took you there. To me, the excitement 
is nothing — to you it is overpowering. You are a gamester, or 
rather, you have it in your disposition. Take, therefore, the 
advice of a friend, if I may so call myself, and do not go there 
again. I hope you are not seriously inconvenienced by what 
you have lost to-night.” 

“Not the least,” replied I. “ It was ready money. I thank 
you for your advice, and will follow it. I have been a fool to- 
night, and one folly is sufficient.” 

Atkinson then left me. I had lost about two hundred and 
fifty pounds, which included my winnings of the night before. 
I was annoyed at it, but I thought of Harcourt’s safety, and 
I felt indifferent. The reader may recollect, that I had three 
thousand pounds, which Mr. Masterton had offered to put out 
to mortgage for me, but until he could find an opportunity, by 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


275 


bis advice I bad bought stock in the three per cents. Since 
that time he had not succeeded, as mortgages in general are for 
larger sums, and it had therefore remained. My rents were 
not yet due, and I was obliged to have recourse to this money. 
I therefore went into the city, and ordered the broker to sell 
out two hundred pounds/ intending to replace it as soon as 1 
could — for I would not have liked that Mr. Masterton should 
have known that I had lost money by gambling. When I re- 
turned from the city, I found Captain Atkinson in my apart- 
ments, waiting for me. 

“Harcourt is doing well, and you are not doing badly. I 
have let all the world know that you intend to call out whoever 
presumes to treat you with indifference.” 

“ The devil you have I but that is a threat which may easier 
be made than followed up by deeds.” 

‘'Shoot two or three more,” replied Atkinson, coolly, “and 
then, depend upon it, you’ll have it all your own way. As 
it is, I acknowledge there has been some show of resistance, 
and they talk of making a resolution not to meet you, on the 
score of your being an impostor.” 

“ And a very plausible reason too,” replied I ; “ nor do 1 
think I have any right — I am sure I have no intention of 
doing as you propose. Surely people have a right to choose 
their acquaintance, and to cut me, if they think I have done 
wrong. I am afraid. Captain Atkinson, you have mistaken 
me ; I have punished Harcourt for his conduct towards me — 
he deserved punishment. I had claims on him ; but I have 
not upon the hundreds, whom, when in the zenith of ray 
popularity, I, myself, perhaps, was not overcourteous to. I 
cannot run the muck which you propose, nor do I consider 
that I shall help my character by 'so doing. I may become 
notorious, but certainly, I shall not obtain that species of 
notoriety which will be of service to me. No, no ; I have 
done too much, I may say, already ; and, although not so 
much to blame as the world imagines, yet my own conscience 
fells me, that by allowing it to suppose that I was what T was 


276 


JAPHET, IK SEARCH OF A FATSEK. 


not, I have, to say the least, been a party to the fraud, and 
must take the consequence. My situation now is very un- 
pleasant, and I ought to retire, and, if possible, re-appear 
with real claims upon the public favour. I have still friends, 
thank God I and influential friends. I am offered a writership 
in India-— a commission in the army — or to study the law. 
Will you favour me with your opinion ?” 

“You pay me a compliment by asking my advice. A writer- 
ship in India is fourteen years’ transportation, returning with 
plenty to live on, but no health to enjoy it. In the army you 
might do well, and, moreover, as an officer in the army, none 
dare refuse to go out with you. At the same time, under 
your peculiar circumstances, I think if you were in a crack 
regiment, you would, in all probability, have to fight one half 
the mess, and be put in Coventry by the other. You must 
then exchange on half-pay, and your commission would be 
a great help to you. As for the law — I’d sooner see a brother 
of mine in his coffin. There, you have my opinion.” 

“Not a very encouraging one at all events,” replied I, 
laughing, “ but there is much truth in your observations. To 
India I will not go, as it will interfere with the great object of 
my existence.” 

“ And pray, if it be no secret, may I ask what that is ?” 

“To find out who is my father y » 

Captain AtkinsdU looked very hard at me. “I more than 
once,” said he, “have thought you a little cracked, but now 
I perceive you are mad — downright mad : don’t be angry, I 
couldn’t help saying so, and if you wish me to give you satis- 
faction, I shall most unwillingly oblige you.” 

“No, no, Atkinson, I believe you are not very far wrong, 
and I forgive you — but to proceed. The army, as you say, 
Avill give me a position in society, from my profession being 
that of a gentleman, but, as I do not wish to take the advan- 
tage which you have suggested from the position, I shrink 
from putting myself into one which may lead to much morti- 
fication. As for the law, although I do not exactly agree 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 5277 

with you in your abhorrence of the profession, yet 1 must 
say, that I do not like the idea. I hare been rendered unfit 
for it by my life up to the present. But I am permitted to 
select any other.” 

“ Without wishing to pry into your affairs, have you sufficien 
to live upon ?” 

“Yes, in a moderate way ; about a younger brother’s por- 
tion, which will just keep me in gloves, cigars, and cen de 
cologne.” , 

“ Then take my advice and be miking. The only difference 
I can see between a gentleman and any body else, is that one 
is idle and the other works hard. One is a useless, and the 
other a useful, member of society. Such is the absurdity of the 
opinions of the world.” 

“Yes, I agree with you, and would prefer being a gentle- 
man in that respect, and do nothing, if they would admit me in 
every other ; but that they will not do. I am in an unfortu- 
nate position.” 

“ And will be until your feelings become blunted as mine 
have been,” replied Atkinson. “ Had you acquiesced in my 
proposal you would have done better. As it is, I can be of no 
use to you ; nay, without intending an affront, I do not know 
if we ought to be seen together, for your decision not to jigU 
your way is rather awkward, as I cannot back one with my 
support who will not do credit to it. Do not be angry at what 
I say ; you are your own master, and have a right to decide 
for yourself. If you think yourself not so Avholly lost as to be 
able eventually to recover yourself by other means, I do not 
blame you, as I know it is only from an error in judgment, and 
not from -want of courage.” 

“ At present I am, I acknowledge, lost. Captain Atkinson ; 
but if I succeed m finding my father ” 

“ Good morning, Newland, good morning,” replied he, 
hastily. “ I see how it is ; of course we shall be civil to each 
other when we meet, for I wish you well, but we must not be 
seen together, or you may' injure ray character.” 


278 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


'' Injure your diameter, Captain Atkinson ?” 

“ Yes, Mr. Newland, injure my character. I do not niear 
to say but that there are characters more respectable, but I 
have a character which suits me, and it has the merit of con- 
sistency. As you are not prepared, as the Americans say, to 
go the whole hog, we will part good friends, and if I have said 
any thing to annoy you, I beg your pardon.” 

“ Good-by, then. Captain Atkinson ; for the kindness you 
have shown me I am grateful.” He shook my hand, and 
walked out of the room. “ And for having thus broken up our 
acquaintance, more grateful still,” thought I, as he went down 
stairs. 


CHAPTER LY. 

I CUT MY NEW ACQUAINTANCE, BUT HIS COMPANY, EVEN IN SO SHORT 

A TIME, PROVES MY RUIN NOTWITHSTANDING I PART WITH ALL 

MY PROPERTY, I RETAIN MY HONESTY. 

In the mean time, the particulars of the duel had fqund their 
way into the papers, with various comments, but none of them 
very flattering to me ; and I received a note from Mr. Master- 
ton, who, deceived by the representations of that class of peo- 
ple who cater for newspapers, and who are but too glad to pull, 
if they possibly can, every one to their own level, strongly 
animadverted upon my conduct, and pointed out the folly of it ; 
adding, that Lord Windermear wholly coincided with him in 
opinion, and had desired him to express his displeasure. He 
concluded by observing, “ I consider this to be the most serious 
false step which you have hitherto made. Because you have 
been a party to deceiving the public, and because one indivi- 
dual, who had no objection to be intimate with a young nian 
of fashion, station, and affluence, does not wish to continue the 
acquaintance with one of unknown ;birth and no fortune, you 
consider yourself justified in taking his life. Upon this principle, 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 279 

all society is at an end, all distinctions levelled, and the rule of the 
gladiator will only be overthrown by the stiletto of the assassin.’’ 

I was but ill prepared to receive this letter. I had been 
deeply thinking upon the kind offers of Lord Windermear, and 
had felt that they would interfere with the ’primum mohih of my 
existence, and I was reflecting by what means I could evade 
their kind intentions, and be at liberty to follow my own incli- 
nations, when this note arrived. To me it appeared to be the 
height of injustice. I had been arraigned and found guilty 
upon an ex-parte statement. I forgot, at the time, that it was 
my duty to have immediately proceeded to Mr. Masterton, and 
have fully explained the facts of the case ; and that, by not 
having so done, I left the natural impression that I had no 
defence to offer. I forgot all this, still I was myself to blame 
— I only saw that the letter in itself was unkind and unjust — 
and my feelings were those of resentment. What right have 
Lord Windermear and Mr. Masterton thus to school and to 
insult me ? The right of obligations conferred. But is not 
Lord Windermear under obligations to me ! Have I not 
preserved his secret ? Yes ; but how did I obtain possession 
of it ? By so doing, I was only making reparation for an 
act of treachery. Well, then, at all events, I have a right 
to be independent of them, if I please — any one has a right 
to assert his independence if he chooses. Their offers -of 
service only would shackle me, if I accepted of their assistance. 
I will have none of them. Such were my reflections ; and the 
reader must perceive that I was influenced by a state of mor- 
bid irritabilit)' — a sense of abandonment which prostrated me. 
I felt that I was an isolated being without a tie in the whole 
world. I determined to spurn the world as it had spurned me. 
To Timothy I would hardly speak a word. I lay with an ach- 
ing head, aching from increased circulation. I was mad, or 
nearly so. I opened the case of pistols, and thought of suicide 
— reflection alone restrained me. I could not abandon the 
search after my father. 

Feverish and impatient, I wished to walk out, but I dared 


280 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

not meet tlie public eye. I waited till dark, and then I sallied 
forth, hardly knowing where I went. I passed the gaming 
house — I did pass it, but I returned and lost every shilling ; 
not, however, till the fluctuations of the game had persuaded me 
that had I had more money to carry it oh, I should have won. 

I went to bed, but not to sleep ; I thought of how I had' 
been caressed and admired, when I was supposed to be rich. 
Of what use then was the money I possessed ? Little or none. 
I made up my mind that I would either gain a fortune, or lose 
that which I had. The next morning I went into the city, and 
sold out all the remaining stock. To Timothy I had not com- 
municated my intentions. I studiously avoided speaking to 
him : he felt hurt at my conduct, I perceived, but I was afraid 
of his advice and expostulation. 

At night-fall I returned to the hell — ^played with various suc- 
cess ; at one time was a winner of three times my capital, and 
I ended at last with my pockets being empty. I was indifferent 
when it was all gone, although in the highest state of excite- 
ment while the chances were turning up. 

The next day I went to a house-agent, and stated my wish 
to sell my house, for I was resolved to try fortune to the last. 
The agent undertook to find a ready purchaser, and I begged 
an advance, which he made, and continued to make, until he 
had advanced nearly half the value. He then found a pur- 
chaser (himself, as I believe) at two-thirds of its value. I did 
not hesitate, I had lost every advance, one after another, and 
was anxious to retrieve my fortune or be a beggar. I signed 
the conveyance and received the balance, fifteen hundred and 
Jfty pounds, and returned to the apartments,' no longer mine, 
about an hour before dinner. I called Timothy, and ascertain- 
ing the amount of bills due, gave him fifty pounds, which left 
him about fifteen pounds as a residue. I then sat down to my 
solitary meal, but just as I commenced I heard a dispute in the 
passage. 

“ What is that, Timothy cried I, for I was nervous to a 
degree. 


JAPIIET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


281 


It^s that fellow Emmanuel, sir, who says that he will come 

ap.” 

“ Yesh, I Till go up, sar.” 

“Let him come, Timothy,” replied I. Accordingly Mr 
Emmanuel ascended. “ Well, Emmanuel, what do you want 
with me ?” said I, looking with contempt at the miserable crea- 
ture who entered as before, with his body bent double, and his 
hand lying over his back. 

“I vash a little out of breath, Mr. JiTewland — I vash come tc 
say dat de monish is very scarce — dat I vill accept your offer, 
and vill take de hundred pounds and my tousand which I have 
lent you. You too much gentleman not to help a poor old 
man, ven he ish in distress.” 

“ Kather say, Mr. Emmanuel, that you have heard that I 
have not ten thousand pound per annum, and that you are 
afraid that you have lost your money.” 

“ Loshe my monish I — no---loshe my tousand pound ! Did 
you not say, dat you would pay it back to me, and give me 
hundred pounds for my trouble ; dat vash *de last arrange- 
ment.” 

“ Yes, but you refused to take it, so it is not my fault. You 
must now stick to the first, which is to receive fifteen hundred 
pounds when I come into my fortune.” 

“ Your fortune, but you av no fortune.” 

“ I am afraid not ; and recollect, Mr. Emanuel, that I never 
told you that I had.” 

“ Vill you pay me my monish, Mr. Newland, or vill you go 
to prison ?” 

“You can’t put me in prison for an agreement,” replied I. 

“ No ; but I can prosecute you for a swindler.” 

“No, you confounded old rascal, you cannot ; try, and do 
your worst,” cried I, enraged at the word swindler. 

“ Veil, Mr. Newland, if you have not de ten tousand a year, 
you have de house and de monish ; you vill not cheat a poor 
man like me.” 

“ I have sold my house.” 


282 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


You hare sold de house — den you have neither de house 
nor de monish. Oh I my monish, my monish ! Sare, Mr. 

Newland, you are one d d rascal and the old wretch’s 

frame quivered with emotion; his hand behind his back shaking 
as much as the other which, in his rage, he shook in ray face. 

Enraged myself at being called such an opprobrious term, I 
opened the door, twisted him round, and applying my foot to 
a nameless part, he flew out and fell down the stall’s, at the 
turning of W’hich he lay, groaning in pain. 

“ Mine Got, mine Got, I am murdered,” cried he. ‘-Fader 
Abraham, receive me.” My rage was appeased, and I turned 
pale at the idea of having killed the poor wretch. With the 
assistance of Timothy, whom I summoned, we dragged the old 
man up stairs, and placed him in a cliair, and found that he 
was not very much hurt. A glass of wine was given to him, 
and then, as soon as he could speak, his ruling passion broke 
out again. “ Mishter Newland---ah, Mish-ter New-land, can- 
not you give me my monish — cannot you give me de tousand 
pound, without de interest ? you are very welcome to de inte- 
rest. I only lend it to oblige you.” 

“How can you expect a d d rascal to do any such 

thing ?” replied I. 

“ D d rascal I Ah ! it vash I who vash a rascal, and 

vash a fool to say the word. Mishter Newland, you vash a 
gentleman, you vill pay me my monish. You vill pay me part 
of my monish. I have de agreement in my pocket, all ready 
to give up.” 

“ If I have not the money, how can I pay you ?” 

“Fader Abraham, if you have not de monish — ^you must 
have some monish ; den you will pay me a part. How much 
vill you pay me ?” 

“Will you take five hundred pounds, and return the agree- 
ment ?” 

“Five hundred pounds — ^lose half— oh I Mr. Newland— it 
was all lent in monish, not in goods ; you will not make me 
lose so much as dat ?” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


283 


“ I’m not sure that I will give you five hundred pounds ; 
your bond is not worth two-pence, and you know it.” 

“ Your honour, Mr. Newland, is worth more dan ten tou- 
sand pounds : but if you have not de monish, den you shall pay 
me de five hundred pounds which you offer, and I will give up 
de paper.” 

“ I never offered five hundred pounds.” 

"Kot offer ;,but you mention de sum, dat quite enough.” 

“Well, then, for five hundred pounds, you will give up the 
paper ?” 

“ Yes ; I vash content to loshe all de rest, to please you.” 

I went to my desk, and took out five hundred pounds in 
notes. “iS'ow, there is the money, which you may put your 
hands on when you give up the agreement.” The old man 
pulled out the agreement and laid it on the table, catching up 
the notes. I looked at the paper to see if it was all right, and 
then tore it up. Emmanuel put the notes, with a heavy sigh, 
into his inside coat pocket, and prepared to depart. “Now, 
Mr. Emmanuel, I will show that I have a little more honour than 
you think for. This is all the money I have in the world,” said 
I, taking out of my desk the remaining thousand pounds, “ and 
half of it I give to you, to pay you the whole money which you 
lent me. Here is five hundred pounds more, and now we are 
quits.” 

The eyes of the old man were fixed upon me in astonishment, 
and from my face they glanced upon the notes ; he could, to 
use a common expression, neither believe his eyes nor his ears. 
At last he took the money, again unbuttoned, and pulled out 
his pocket-book, and with a trembling hand stowed them away 
as before. 

“You vash a very odd gentleman, Mishter Newland,” said 
he ; “ you kick me down stairs, and — but dat is nothing.” 

“ Good-by, Mr. Emmanuel,” said I, “ and let me cat my 
i inner.” 


284 


JAPHET^ IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 


CHAPTER LVI. 

I RESOLVE TO BEGIN THE WORLD AGAIN AND TO SEEK MY FORTUNE 
IN THE NEXT PATH 1 TAKE LEAVE OF ALL MY OLD FRIENDS. 

The Jew retired, and I commenced my meal, when the door 
again slowly opened, and Mr. Emmanuel cravfled up to me. 

“Mishter Newland, I vash beg your pardon, but vill you 
not pay me de interest of the monish 

I started up from my chair, with my rattan in my hand. 
“ Begone, you old thief,” cried I ; and hardly were the words 
out of my mouth, before Mr. Emmanuel travelled out of the 
room, and I never saw him afterwards. I wms pleased with 
myself for having done this act of honesty, and for the first time 
for a long while I ate my dinner with some zest. After I had 
finished, I took a twenty pound note, and laid it in my desk, 
the remainder of the five hundred pounds I put in my pocket, 
to try my last chance. In an liour I quitted the hell penniless. 
When I returned home I had composed myself a little after the 
dreadful excitement which I had been under. I felt a calm, 
and a degree of negative happiness. I knew my fate — there 
was no suspense. I sat down to reflect upon what I should do. 
I was to commence the w^orld again — to sink down at once into 
obscurity — into poverty — and I felt happy. I had severed the 
link between myself and my former condition — I wms again a 
beggar, but I was independent — and I resolved so to be. I 
spoke kindly to Timothy, went to bed, and having an’anged in 
my owm mind how I should act, I fell sound asleep. 

I never slept better, or aw^oke more refreshed. The next 
morning I packed up my portmanteau, taking wdth me only the 
most necessary articles : all the details of the toilet, further 
than cleanliness was concerned, I abjured. When Timothy 
came in, I told him that I was going down to Lady de Clare’s, 
which I intended to do. Poor Timothy was overjoyed at the 
change in my manner, little thinking that he was so soon tc 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 28c 

lose me — for, reader, I had made up my mind that I would 
try my fortunes alone ; and, painful as I felt would be the part 
ing with so valued a friend, I was determined that I would no 
longer have even his assistance or company. I was determined 
to forget all that had passed, and commence the world anew. 
I sat down while Timothy went out to take a place in the Rich- 
mond coach, and wrote to him the following letter : — 

“ My DEAR Timothy : 

“Do not think that I undervalue your friendship, or 
shall ever forget your regard for me, when I tell you that we 
shall probably never meet again. Should fortune favour me, I 
trust we shall — but of that there is little prospect. I have lost 
almost ever^ thing : my money is all gone, my house is sold, 
and all is gambled away. I leave you, with only my clothes in 
my portmanteau and twenty pounds. For yourself, there is the 
furniture, which you must sell, as well as every other article 
left behind. It is all yours, and I hope you will find means to 
establish yourself in some way. God bless you — and believe 
me always and gratefully yours, 

“ Japhet Newland.” 

This letter I reserved to put in the post when I quitted Pvich- 
mond. My next letter was to Mr. Masterton. 

“ Sir : 

“Your note I received, and I am afraid that unwit- 
tingly, you have been the occasion of my present condition. 
That I did not deserve the language addressed to me, you may 
satisfy yourself by applying to Mr. Harcourt. Driven to des- 
peration, I have lost all I had in the world, by adding gaming 
to my many follies. I now am about to seek my fortune, and 
prosecute my search after my father. You will, therefore, 
return my most sincere acknowledgments to Lord Windermear, 
for his kind offers and intentions, and assure him that my feel- 
ings towards him will always be those of gratitude and respect 


286 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


For yourself, accept my warmest thanks for the friendly advice 
and kind interest which you have shown in my welfare, and 
believe me, when I say, that my earnest prayers shall be offered 
up for your happiness. If you can, in any way, assist my poor 
friend, Timothy, who will, I have no doubt, call upon you in 
liis distress, you will confer an additional favour on, 

“ Yours, ever gratefully, 

“ Japhet Newland.^' 

I sealed this letter, and when Timothy returned, I told him 
that I wished him, after my departure, to take it to Mr. Mas- 
terton’s, and not wait for an answer. I then, as I had an hour 
to spare, before the coach started, entered into a conversation 
with Timothy. I pointed out to him the unfortunate condition 
in which I found myself, and my determination to quit the 
metropolis. 

Timothy agreed with me. “ I have seen you so unhappy of 
late— I may say, so miserable— that I have neither eaten nor 
slept. Indeed, Japhet, I have laid in bed and wept, for my 
happiness depends upon yours. Go where you will, I am ready 
to follow and to serve you, and as long as I see you comfort- 
able, I care for nothing else.” 

These words of Timothy almost shook my resolution, and I 
was near telling him all ; but when I recollected I refrained. 
“ My dear Timothy,” said I, “in this world we must expect to 
meet with a checkered existence ; we may laugh at one time, 
but we must cry at others. I owe my life to you, and I never 
shall forget you wherever I may be.” 

“ No,” replied Timothy, “ you are not likely to forget one 
who is hardly an hour out of your sight.” 

Y ery true, Timothy ; but circumstances may occur which 
may separate us.” 

“ I cannot imagine such circumstances, nor do I believe, that 
bad as things may turn out, that they will ever be so bad as 
that. You have your money and your house ; if you leave 
London, you will be able to add to your income by letting your 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


287 


own apartments furnished, so we never shall want ; and we 
may be very happy running about the world, seeking what wo 
wish to find.” 

My heart smote me when Timothy said this, for I felt, by his 
devotion and fidelity, he had almost the same claim to the pro- 
perty I possessed as myself. He had been my partner, playing 
the inferior game for the mutual benefit. “ But the time may 
come, Timothy, when w^e may find ourselves without money, as 
we were when we first commenced our career, and shared three- 
pence halfpenny each, by selling the old woman the embroca* 
tion.” 

“ Well, sir, and let it come. I should be sorry for you, but 
not for myself, for then Tim would be of more importance, and 
more useful, than as valet with little or nothing to do.” 

I mentally exclaimed, “ I have, I think I have been a fool, a 
great fool, but the die is cast. I will sow in sorrow, and may 
I reap a harvest in joy. I feel,” thought I (and I did feel), “ I 
feel a delightful conviction, that we shall meet again, and all 
this misery of parting will be but a subject of future garrulity. 
Yes, Tim,” said I, in a loud voice, all is right.” 

“ All’s right, sir ; I never thought anything was wrong, 
except your annoyance at people not paying you the attention 
which they used to do when they supposed you a man of 
fortune.” 

“Very true; and, Tim, recollect that if Mr. Masterton 
speaks to you about ine, which he may after I am gone to 
Richmond, ■ you tell him that before I left, I p^id that old 
scoundrel Emmanuel every farthing that I had borrowed of 
him, and you know (and in fact so does Mr. Masterton) how it 
was borrowed.” 

“ Well, sir, I will, if he does talk to me, but he seldom says 
much to me.” 

“ But he may, perhaps, Tim ; and I wish him to know that 
I have paid every debt I owe ii the world.” 

“ One would think that you were going to the East Indies, 
instead of to Richmond by the way you talk.” 


288 


JAPHET, IN SEAKCn OF A FATHER. 


“ No, Tim ; I was offered a situation in the East Indies, and 
I refused it ; but Mr. Masterton and I have not been on good 
terms lately, and I wish him to know thajj I am out of debt. 
You know, for I told you all that passed between Emmanuel 
and myself, how he accepted five hundred jiounds, and I paid 
him the thousand j and I wish Mr. Masterton should know it 
too, and he will then be better pleased with me.'^ 

“Never feai’, sir,” said Tim, “ I can tell the whole story with 
flourishes.” ■* 

“No, Tim, nothing but the truth ; but it is time I should go. 
Farewell, my dear fellow. May God bless you and preserve 
you.” And, overcome by my feelings, I dropped my face on 
Timothy’s shoulder, and wept. 

“ What is the matter ? What do you mean, Japhct ? .Mr 
Newland — pray, sir, what is the matter?” 

“ Timothy — it is nothing,” replied I, recovering myself, “ but 
I have been ill ; nervous lately, as you well know, and even 
leaving the last and only friend I have, I may say for a few 
days, annoys and overcomes me.” 

“ Oh ! sir — dear Japhet, do let us leave this house, and sell 
yonr furniture, and be off.” 

“ I mean that it shall be so, Tim. God bless you, and fare- 
well.” I went down stairs, the hackney-coach was at the door. 
Timothy put in my portmanteau, and mounted the box. I 
we(pt Utterly. My readers may despise me, but they ought not ; 
let them be in my situation, and feel that they have one sin- 
cere faithful friend, and then they will know the bitterness of 
parting. I recovered myself before I arrived at the coach, and 
shaking hands with Timothy, I lost sight of him ; for how long, 
the reader will find out in the sequel of my adventures. 

I arrived at Lady de Clare’s, and hardly need say that I was 
well received. They expressed their delight at my so soon 
coming again, and made a hundred inquiries — but I was un- 
happy and melancholy, not at my prospects, for in my infatua- 
tion I rejoiced at my anticipated beggary — but I wished to 
communicate with Fleta, for so I still called lier. Fleta had 


•TAPHET. IN SEARCH OF 1 F4THER. 2^9 

known my history, for she had been present when I had related 
it to her mother, up to the time that I arrived in London ; fur- 
ther than that she knew little. I was determined that before I 
quitted she should know all. I dared not trust the last part to 
her when I was present, but I resolved that I would do it in 
writing. 

Lady de Clare made no difficulty whatever of leaving me 
with Fleta. She was now a beautiful creature, of between fif- 
teen and sixteen, bursting into womanhood, and lovely as the 
bud of the moss-rose ; and she 'was precocious beyond her 
years in intellect. I stayed there three days, and had frequent 
opportunities of conversing with her ; I told her that I wished 
her to be acquainted with my wffiole life, and interrogated her 
as to what she knew : I carefully filled up the chasms, until I 
brought it down to the 'time at which I placed her in the arms 
of her mother. “And now, Fleta,” said I, “you have much 
more to learn — you will learn that much at my departure. I 
have dedicated hours every night in writing it out ; and, as 
you will find, have analysed my feelings, and have pointed out 
to you where I have been wrong. I have done it for my amuse- 
ment, as it may be of service even to a female.” 

On the third day I took my leave, and requesting the pony 

chaise of Lady de Clare, to take me over to , that I might 

catch the first coach that went westward, for I did not care 
wffiich ; I put into Fleta’s hands the packet which I had writ- 
ten, containing all that had passed, and I bid her farewell. 

“ Lady de Clare, may you be happy,” said I. “ Fleta — 
Cecilia, I should say, may God bless and preserve you, and 
sometimes think of your sincere friend, Japhet Newland.” 

“Keally, Mr. IS'ewland,” said Lady de Clare, “one w'ould 
chink we were never to see you again,” 

“ I hope that will not be the case. Lady de Clare, for I know 
nobody to whom I am more devoted.” 

“ Then, sir, recollect we are to see you very soon.” 

I pressed her ladyship’s hand, and left the house. Thus did 
I commence my second pilgrimage. 

MB 


290 


JAi’HET, IN SE Alien OP A FATHER 


CHAPTER LYIl' •’ 

MY NEW CAREER IS NOT VERY PROSPEROUS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT 

I AM ROBBED, AND ACCUSED OF BEING A ROBBER 1 BIND UP 

WOUNDS, AND AM ACCUSED OF HAVING INFLICTED THEM 1 GET 

INTO A HORSE-POND, AND OUT IT INTO GAOL. 

I HAD proceeded lialf a mile from the house, w'hen I desired the 
servant to turn into a cross-road so as to gain Brentford ; and, 
so^soon as I arrived, the distance being only four miles, I 
ordered him to stop at a public-house, saying that I would 
wait till the coach should pass by. I then gave him half-a- 
crown, and ordered him to go home. I went into the inn with 
my portmanteau, and was shown into a small back parlour ; 
there I remained about half an hour reflecting upon the best 
plan that I could adopt. ’ 

Leaving the ale that I had called for untasted, I paid for it, 
and, with the portmanteau on my shoulder, I walked away until 
I arrived at an old clothes’ shop. I told the Jew who kept it, 
that I required some clothes, and also wanted to dispose of my 
own portmanteau and all my effects. I had a great rogue to 
deal with ; but after much chaffering, for I now felt the value 
of money, I purchased from him two pair of corduroy trowsers, 
two waistcoats, four common shirts, four pairs of stockings, a 
nmock frock, a pair of high-lows, and a common hat. For 
these I gave up all my portmanteau, with the exception of six 
silk handkerchiefs, and received fifty shillings, when I ought to 
have received, at least, ten pounds ; but I could not well help 
myself, and I submitted to the extortion. I dressed myself in 
my more humble garments, securing my money in the pocket of 
my trowsers unobserved by the Jew, made up a bundle of the 
rest, and procured a stick from the Jew to carry it on, however 
not without paying him three-pence for it, he observing that the 
stick “wash not in de bargain.” Thus attired, I had the 
appearance of a countryman well to do, and I set off through 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


291 


the long dirty main street of Brentford, quite undecided and 
indifferent as to the direction I should take. I walked about a 
mile, -when I thought that it was better to come to some deci- 
sion previous to my going farther ; and perceiving a bench in 
front of a public-house, I went to it and sat down. I looked 
around, and it immediately came to my recollection that I was 
sitting on the very bench on which Timothy and I had stopped 
to eat our meal of pork, at our first outset upon our travels. 
Yes, it was the very same ! Here sat I, and there sat Timo- 
thy, two heedless boys, with the paper containing the meat, the 
loaf of bread, and the pot of beer between us. Poor Timothy I 
I conjured up his unhappiness when he had received my note • 
acquainting him with our future separation. I remembered his 
fidelity, his courage in defence, and his preservation of my life 
in Ireland, and a tear or two coursed down my cheek. 

I remained some time in a deep reverie, during which the 
various circumstances and adventures of my life passed in a 
rapid panorama before me. I felt that I had little to plead in 
my own favour, much to condemn — that I had passed a life of 
fraud and deceit. I also could not forget that when I had 
returned to honesty, I had been scouted by the world. “And ♦ 
here I am,” thought I, “ once more with the world before me ; 
and it is just that I should commence again, for I started in a 
wrong path. At least, now I can satisfactorily assert that I am 
deceiving nobody, and can deservedly receive no contumely. I 
am Japhet Newland, and not in disguise.” I felt happy with 
this reflection, and made a determination, whatever my future 
lot might be, that, at least, I would pursue the path of honesty. 

I then began to reflect upon another point, which was, whither 
I should bend my steps, and what I should do to gain my 
livelihood. 

Alas I that was a subject of no little difficulty to me. A 
person w^ho has been brought up to a profession naturally 
reverts to that profession — but to what had I been brought up ? 
As an apothecary — true ; but I well knew the difiiculty of 
obtaining employment in what is termed a liberal profession 


‘292 JAPaET, U SEARCH OK A FATHER. 

without interest or recommendation ; neither did 1 wish foi 
close confinement, as the very idea was irksome. As a mounte- 
bank, a juggler, a quack doctor — I spurned* the very idea. It 
was a system of fraud and deceit. What then could I do ? I 
could not dig, to beg I was ashamed. I must trust to the 
chapter of accidents, and considering how helpless I was, such 
trust was but a broken reed. At all events, I had a sufficient 
sum of money, upwards of twenty pounds, to exist upon with 
economy for some time. 

I was interrupted by a voice calling out, “ Hilloa ! my lad, 
come and hold this horse a moment.” I looked up and per- 
ceived a person on horseback looking at me. “ Do you hear or 
are you stupid ?” cried the man. My- first feeling was to knock 
liim down for his impertinence, but my bundle lying beside, 
reminded me of my situation and appearance, and I rose and 
walked towards the horse. The gentleman, for such he was in 
appearance, dismounted, and throwing the rein on the horse’s 
neck, told me to stand by him for half a minute. He went into 
a respectable looking house opposite the inn, and remained 
nearly half an hour, during which I was becoming very impa- 
* tient, and kept an anxious eye upon my bundle, which lay on 
the seat. • At last he came out, and mounting his horse looked 
in my face with some degree of surprise. “ Why, what are 
you ?” said he, as he pulled out a sixpence, and tendered it 
to me. 

I was again nearly forgetting myself, affronted at the idea of 
sixpence being offered to me; but I recovered myself, saying, as 
I took it, “A poor labouring man, sir.” 

“What, with those hands?” said he, looking at them as I 
took the money: and then looking at my face, he continued, “ I 
think we have met before, my lad — I cannot be sure ; you know 
best — I am a Bow Street magistrate.” 

In a moment, I remembered that he was the very magistrate 
before whom I had twice made my appearance. I coloured 
leeply, and made no rej^ly. 

“ Well, my lad, Pm not on my bench now, and this sixpence 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


293 


you have earned honestly. I trust you will continue in the 
right path. Be careful — I have sharp eyes.’’ So saying, he 
rode off. 

I never felt more mortified. It was evident that he con- 
sidered me as one who was acting a part for unworthy purposes; 
perhaps one of the swell mob or a flash pickpocket, rusticating 
until some hue and cry was over. “ Well, well,” thought I, as 
I took up a lump of dirt and rubbed over my then white hands, 
“it is my fate to be believed when I deceive, and to be mis- 
trusted when I am acting honestly;” and I returned to the 
bench for my bundle, which — ^^vas gone. I stared with aston- 
ishment. “ Is it possible ?” thought I. “ How dishonest people 
are ! Well, I will not carry another for the present. They 
might as well have left me my stick.” So thinking, and with- 
out any great degree of annoyance at the loss, I turned from 
the bench and walked away, I knew not whither^ It was now 
getting dark, but I quite forgot that it was necessary to look 
out for a lodging; the fact is, that I had been completely upset 
by the observations of the magistrate, and the theft of my bun- 
dle; and, in a sort of brown study, from which I wms occasion- 
ally recalled for a moment by stumbling over various obstruc- 
tions, I continued my walk on the pathway until I was two or 
three miles away from Brentford. I was within a mile of 
Hounslow, w’hen I was roused by the groans of some person, 
and it being now dark, I looked round, trying to catch by the 
ear the direction in which to offer my assistance. They pro- 
ceeded from the other side of a hedge, and I crawled through, 
where I found a man lying on the ground, covered with blood 
about the head, and breathing heavily. I untied his neckcloth, 
and, as well as I could, examined his condition. I bound his 
handkerchief round his head, and perceiving that the position 
ill which he was lying was very unfavorable, his head and 
shoulders being much lower than his body, I wms dragging the 
body round so as to raise those parts, when I heard footsteps 
and voices. Shortly after, four people burst through the hedge 
and surrounded me. 


294 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ That is him, Til swear to it,” cried an immense stout man. 
seizing me; “that is the other fellow who attacked me, and rar 
away. He has come to get off his accomplice, and now weVe 
just nicked them both.” 

“You are very much mistaken,” replied I, “and you have 
no need to hold me so tight. I heard the man groan, and I 
came to his assistance.” 

“ That gammon won’t do,” replied one of them, who was a 
constable; “ yon’ll come along with us, and we may as well put 
on the darlks^^ continued he, producing a pair of handcuffs. 

Indignant at the insult, I suddenly broke from him who held 
me, and darting at the constable, knocked him down, and then 
took to my heels across the ploughed field. The whole four 
pursued, but I rather gained upon them, and wms in hopes to 
make my escape. I ran for a gap I perceived in the hedge, 
and sprang over it, without minding the old adage, of “Look 
before you leap;” for, when on the other side, I found myself in 
a deep and stagnant pit of water and mud. I sank' over head, 
and with difficulty extricated myself from the mud at the bot- 
tom, and when at the surface I was equally embarrassed with 
the weeds at the top, among which I floundered. In the mean 
time my pursuers, warned by the loud splash, had paused when 
they came to the edge, and perceiving my situation, were at the 
brink of the pit watching for my coming out. All resistance 
was useless. I was numbed with cold and exhausted by my 
struggles, and when I gained the bank I surrendered at dis- 
cretion. 


CHAPTER LVIH. 

WORSE AND WORSE IF OUT OF GAOL, IT WILL BE TO GO OUT 01 

THE WORLD 1 AM RESOLVED TO TAKE MY SECRET WITH ME. 

The handcuffs were now put on without resistance on my part, 
and I was led away to Hounslow by the two constables, while 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER, 295 

the others returned to secure the wounded man. On my arri' 
val I was thrust into the clink, or lock-up house, as the magis- 
trates would not meet that evening, and there I was left to my 
reflections. Previously, however, to this, I v/as searched, and 
my money, amounting, as I before stated, to upwards of twenty 
pounds, taken from me by the constables ; and what I had 
quite forgotten, a diamond solitaire ring, which I had intended 
to have left with my other bijouterie for Timothy, but in my 
hurry, when I left London, I had allowed to remain upon my 
finger. The gaol was a square building, with two unglazed 
windows secured with thick iron bars, and the rain having beat 
in, it was more like a pound for cattle, for it was not even 
paved, and the ground was three or four inches deep in mud. 
There was no seat in it. and there I was the whole of the night 
walking up and down shivering in my wet clothes, in a state of 
mind almost bordering upon insanity. Reflect upon what was 
likely to happen, I could not. I only ran over the past. I 
remembered what I had been, and felt cruelly the situation I 
then was in. Had I deserved it ? I thought not. “ Oh 1 
father — father !” exclaimed I, bitterly, “ see to what your son 
is brought — ^handcuffed as a felon I God have mercy on my 
brain, for I feel that it is wandering. Father, father — alas, I 
have none I — had you left me at the asylum, without any clue, 
or hopes of a clue, to my hereafter being reclaimed, it would 
have been a kindness ; I should then have been happy and 
contented in some obscure situation ; but you raised hopes only 
to prostrate them — and imaginings which have led to my 
destruction. Sacred is the duty of a parent, and heavy must 
be the account of those wdio desert their children, and are 
required by Heaven to render up an account of the important 
trust. Couldst thou, oh, father, but now behold thy son !' 

God Almighty ! ^but I will not curse you, father ! No, 

no ” and I burst into tears, as I leant against the damp 

walls of the prison. 

The day at last broke, and the sun rose, and poured his 
beaming rays through the barred windows. I looked at myself 


296 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.. 


and was shocked at my appearance j my smoke-frock was cov 
ered with black mud, my clothes were equally ■ disfigured. J 
had lost my hat when in the water, and I felt the dry mud 
cracking on my cheeks. I put my hands up to my head, and I 
pulled a quantity of duck-weed out of my matted and tangled 
hair. I thought of the appearance I should make when sum- 
moned before the magistrates, and how much it would go 
against me. “ Good God I’’ thought I, “ who, of all the world 
of fashion — who, of all those who once caught my salutation 
so eagerly — who, of all those worldly-minded girls, who smiled 
upon me but one short twelve months since, would imagine, or 
believe, that Japhet Newland could ever have sunk so low — and 
how has he so fallen ? Alas ! because he would be honest, and 
had .strength of mind enough to adhere to his resolution. Well, 
well, God’s will be done ; I care not for life ; but still an igno- 
minious death — to go out of the world like a dog, and that too 
without finding out who is my father.” And I put my fettered 
• hands up and pressed my burning brow, and remained in a sort 
of apathetic sullen mood, until I was startled by the opening 
of the door, and the appearance of the constables. They led 
me out amongst the crowd, through which, with difficulty, they 
could force their way ; and followed by the majority of the 
population of Hounslow, who made their complimentary re- 
marks upon the footpad, I was brought before the magistrates. 
The large stout man was then called up to give his evidence, 
and deposed as follows ; — 

“ That he was walking to Hounslow from Brentford, whither 
he had been to purchase some clothes, when he was accosted 
by two fellows in smock-frocks, one of whom carried a bundle 
in his left hand. They asked him what o’clock it was ; and he 
took out his watch to tell them, when he received a blow from 
the one with the bundle, (this one, sir, said he, pointing to me,) 
on the back of his head ; at the same time the other (the 
wounded man who was now in custody) snatched his watch. 
That at the time he had purchased his clothes at Brentford, he 
had also bought a bag of shot, fourteen pounds’ weight, which 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 297 

he had, for the convenience of carrying, tied up with the clothes 
in the bundle ; and perceiving that he was about to be robbed, 
he had swung his bundle round his head, and with the weight 
of the shot, had knocked down the man who had snatched at 
his watch. He then turned to the other (me), who backed 
from him, and struck at him with his stick. (The stick was 
here produced ; and when I cast my eye on it, I was horrified 
to perceive that it was the very stick which I had bought of 
the Jew, for three-pence, to carry my bundle on.) He had 
closed in with me, and was wresting the stick out of my hand, 
when the other man, who had recovered his legs, again attack- 
ed him with another stick. In the scuffle he had obtained my 
stick, and I had wrested from him .his bundle, with which, as 
soon as he had knocked down my partner, I ran off. That he 
beat my partner until he was insensible, and then found that I 
had left my own bundle, which in the affray I had thrown on 
one side. He then made the best of his way to Hounslow to 
give the information.” His return and finding me with the 
other man is already known to the readers. 

The next evidence who came forward was the Jew, from 
whom I had bought the clothes and sold my own. He narrated 
all that had occurred, and swore to the clothes in the bundle 
left by the footpad, and to the stick which he had sold to me. 
The constable then produced the money found about my person 
and the diamond solitaire ring, stating my attempt to escape 
when I was seized. The magistrate then asked me whether I 
had any thing to say in my defence, cautioning me not to com- 
mit myself. 

I replied, that I was innocent ; that it was true that I had 
sold my own clothes, and had purchased those of the Jew, 
as well as the stick : that I had been asked to hold the horse 
of a gentleman when sitting on a bench opposite a public house, 
and that some one had stolen my bundle and my stick. That I 
had walked on towards Hounslow, and, in assisting a fellow- 
creature, whom I certainly had considered as having been 
attacked by others, I had merely yielded to the common feelings 

13 ^ 


298 


JAPHET, m SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


of humanity — that I was seized when performing that duty, ami 
should willingly have accompanied them to the magistrate’s, 
had not they attempted to put on handcuffs, at which my feel* 
ings were roused, and I knocked the constable down, and made 
my attempt to escape. 

“ Certainly, a very ingenious defence,” observed one of the 

magistrates ; “ pray where ” At this moment the door 

opened, and in came the very gentleman, the magistrate at 
Bow Street, whose horse I had held. “ Good morning, Mr. 
Norman ; you have just come in time to render us your assist- 
ance. We have a very deep hand to deai with here, or else a 
very injured person, I cannot tell which. Do us the favour to 
look over these informations and the defence of the prisoner, 
previous to our asking him any more questions.” 

The Bow Street magistrate complied, and then turned to me, 
but I was so disguised with mud that he could not recognise 
me. 

“You are the gentleman, sir, who asked me to hold your 
horse,” said 1. “I call you to witness, that that part of my 
assertion is true.” 

“I do now recollect that you are the person,” replied he, 
“ and you may recollect the observation I made, relative to your 
hands, when you stated that you were a poor countryman.” 

“ I do, sir, perfectly,” replied I. 

“ Perhaps then you will inform us by what means a diamond 
ring and twenty pounds in money came into your possession.” 

“ Honestly, sir,” replied I. 

“Will you state, as you are a poor countryman, with whom 
you worked last — what parish you belong to — and whom yon 
can bring forward in proof of good character ?” 

“ I certainly shall not answer those questions,” replied I, “if 
I chose T might so do, and satisfactorily.” 

“ What is your name ?” 

“ I cannot answer that question either, sir,” replied I. 

“ I told you yesterday that we had met before ; was it not at 
Bow Street ?” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 299 

“ I am surprised at your asking a question, sir, from the 
bench, to which, if I answered, the reply may alFect me consid- 
erably. I am here in a false position, and cannot well help my- 
self. I have no friends that I choose to call, for I should blush 
that they should see me in such a state, and under such impu- 
tations.” 

“ Your relations, young man, would certainly not be back- 
ward. Who is your father 

“JMy father,” exclaimed I, raising up my hands and eyes. ' 

My father ! Merciful God I — if he could only see me here — 
sec to what he has reduced his unhappy son,” and I covered my 
face and sobbed convulsively. 


CHAPTER LIX. 

BY THE COMMITTING OP MAGISTERIAL MISTAKES I AM PERSONALLY 

AND PENALLY COMMITTED 1 PREPARE FOR MY TRIAL BY CALLING 

IN THE ASSISTANCE OF THE TAILOR AND THE PERFUMER 1 AM 

RESOLVED TO DIE LIKE A GENTLEMAN. 

“ It is indeed a pity, a great pity,” observed one of the magis- 
trate, “ such a fine young man, and evidently, by his deme.anour 
and language, well brought up ; but I believe,” said' he, turning 
to the others, “ we have but one course ; what say you, Mr. 
Norman?” ; 

I am afraid that my opinion coincides with yours, and that 
the grand jury will not hesitate to find a bill, as the case stands 
at present. Let us, however, ask the witness Armstrong one 
question. Ho you positively swear to this young man being one 
of the persons who attacked you ?” 

“ It was not very light at the time, sir, and both the men had 
their Taces smutted ; but it was a person just his size, and 
dressed in tlic same way, as near as I can recollect.” 

“ You cannot, therefore^ swear to his identity ?” 


300 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“No, sir ; but to the best of my knowledge and belief, he is 
the man,” 

“ Take that evidence down as important,” said Mr. Norman; 
“ it will assist him at his trial.” 

The evidence was taken down, and then my commitment to 
the county gaol was made out. I was placed in a cart, between 
two constables, and driven olf. On my arrival I was put into n 
cell, and my money returned to me, but the ring was detained, 
that it might be advertised. At last, I was freed from*the 
manacles ; and when the prison dresS was brought to me to put 
on, in lieu of my own clothes, I requested leave from the gaoler 
to wash myself, which was granted; and, strange to say, so un- 
accustomed had I been to such a state of filth, that I felt 
a degree of happiness, as I returned from the pump in the 
prison-yard, and I put on the prison dress almost with pleasure ; 
for degrading as it was, at all events, it was new and clean. I 
then returned to my cell, and was left to my meditations. 

Now that my examination and committal were over, I 
became much more composed, and was able to reflect coolly. 
I perceived the great danger of my situation — how strong the 
evidence was against me — and how little chance I had of 
escape. As for sending to Lord Windermear, Mr; Masterton, 
or those who formerly were acquainted with me, my pride for- 
bade it— I would sooner have perished on the scaffold. Besides, 
their evidence as to my former situation in life, although it 
would perhaps satisfactorily account *for my possession of the 
money and the ring, and for my disposing of my portmanteau — • 
all strong presumptive evidence against me— would not destroy 
the evidence brought forward as to the robbery, which appeared 
to be so very conclusive to the bench of magistrates. My only 
chance appeared to be in the footpad, who had not escaped, 
acknowledging that I was not his accomplice ; and I felt how 
much I was interested in his recovery, as well as in his candour 
The assizes I knew were near at hand, and I anxiously awaited 
the return of the gaoler, to make a few inquiries. At night he 
looked through the small square cut out of the top of the dooi 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OP A FATHER. 


30.1 


of the cell, for it was his duty to go his rounds and ascertain if 
all his prisoners were safe. I then asked him if I might be 
allowed to make a few purchases, such as pens, ink, and paper, 
&c. As I was not committed to prison in punishment, but on 
suspicion, this was not denied, although it would have been to 
those who were condemned to imprisonment and hard labour for 
their offences ; and he volunteered to procure them for me the 
next morning. I then wished him a good night, and threw m}*- 
self on my mattress. Worn out with fatigue and distress of 
mind, I slept soundly, without dreaming, until daylight the next 
morning. As I awoke, and my scattered senses were returning, 
I had a confused idea that there was something which weighed 
heavily on my mind, which sleep had banished from my 
memory. “ What is it V’ thought I ; and as I opened my eyes, 
so did I remember that I, Japhet Newland, who but two nights 
before was pressing the down of luxury in the same habitation 
as Lady de Clare and her lovely child, was now on a mattress 
in the cell of a prison, under a charge which threatened me 
with an ignominious death. I rose, and sat on the bed, for I 
had not thrown off my clothes. My first thoughts were directed 
to Timothy. Should I write to him? No, no ! why should I 
make him miserable ? If I was to suffer, it should be under an 
assumed name. But what name ? Here I was interrupted by 
the gaoler, who opened the door, and desired me to roll up my 
mattress and bed-clothes, that they might, as was the custom, 
be taken out of the cell during the day. 

My first inquiry was, if the man who had been so much hurt 
was in the gaol. 

“You mean your ’complice,” replied the gaoler. “Yes, he 
is here, and has recovered his senses. The doctor says he will 
do very well.” 

“ lias he made any confession ?” inquired I. 

The gaoler made no reply. 

“ I ask that question,” continued I, “ because if he acknow- 
ledges who was his accomplice, I shall be set at liberty.” 

“Very likely,” replied the man, sarcastically; “the fact is, 


302 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


there is no occasion for king’s evidence in this case, or you 
might get off by crossing the water ; so you must trust to your 
luck. The grand jury meet to-day, and I will let you know 
whether a true bill is found against you or not.” 

“ What is the name of the other man ?” inquired I. 

“Well, you are a good un to put a face upon a matter, I 
will say. You would almost persuade me, with that innocent 
look of yours, that you know nothing about the business.” 

“ Nor do I,” replied I. 

“You will be fortunate, if you can prove as much, that’s 
all.” 

“ Still, you have not answered my question : what is the other 
man’s name ?” 

“ Well,” replied the gaoler, laughing, “since you are deter- 
mined I shall tell you, I will. It must be news to you, with a 
vengeance. His name is Bill Ogle, alias Swamping Bill. I 
suppose you never heard that name before ?” 

“ I certainly never did,” replied I. 

“ Perhaps you do not know your own name ? Yet I can tell 
it you, for Bill Ogle has blown upon you so far.” 

“ Indeed,” replied I ; “ and what name has he given to me ?” 

“ Why, to do him justice, it wasn’t until he saw a copy of 
the depositions before the magistrates, and heard how you were 
nabbed in trying to help him off, that he did tell it ; and then 
he said, ‘ Well, Phill Maddox always was a true un, and I’m 
mortal sorry that he’s in for’t, by looking a’ ter me.’ Now do 
you know your own name ?” 

“ I certainly do not,” replied I. 

“Well, did you ever hear of one who went by the name of 
Phill Maddox?” 

“ I never did,”’ replied I ; “ and I am glad that Ogle has dis- 
closed so much.” 

“ Well, I never before met with a man who did’nt know his 
own name, or had the face to say so, and expect to be believed ; 
but never mind, you are right to be. cautious, with the haltci 
looking you in the face ” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


303 


“ 0 God 1 0 God !” exclaimed I, throwing myself on the bed- 
stead, and covering up my face, “give me strength to bear even 
that, if so it must be.” 

The gaolor looked at me for a time. “ I don't know what to 
make of him — he puzzles me quite, certainly. Yet it’s no 
mistake.” 

“ It is a mistake,” replied I, rising ; “ but whether the mis- 
take will be found out until too late, is another point. How- 
ever, it is of little consequence. Vf hat have I to live for, — 
unless to find out who is my father ?” 

“ Find out your father I what’s in the wind now ? well, it 
beats my comprehension altogether. But did not you say you 
wished me to get you something ?” 

‘‘ Yes,” replied I ; and I gave him some money, with direc- 
tions to purchase me implements for writing, some scented wax 
a tooth-brush, and tooth-powder, eau de cologue, hair-brush and 
comb, razors, small looking-glass, and various implements for 
my toilet. 

“ This is a rum world,” said the man, repeating what I asked 
for, as I put two guineas in his hand. “ I’ve purchased many 
an article for a prisoner, but never heard of such rattletraps 
afore ; however, that be all the same. You will have them, 
though what ko de colum is I can’t tell, nor dang me if I shall 
recollect — not poison, be it, for that is not allowed in the 
prison ?” 

“No, no,” rephed I, indulging in momentary mirth at the 
idea ; “ you may inquire, and you will find that it’s only taken 
by -ladies who are troubled with the vapours.” 

“Now I should ha’ thought that you’d have spent your 
money in the cookshop, which is so much more natural. How- 
ever, we all have our fancies ;” so saying, he quitted the cell, 
pud locked the door. 


304 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


CHAPTER LX. 

I AM CONDEMNED TO BE HUNG BY THE NECK UNTIL I AM DEAD, 
AND TO GO OUT OF THE WORLD WITHOUT FINDING OUT WHO 13 

MY FATHER AFTERWARDS MY INNOCENCE IS MADE MANIFEST, 

AND I AM TURNED ADRIFT A MANIAC IN THE HIGH ROAD. 

It may appear strange to tlie reader that I seni for the above- 
mentioned articles, but habit is second nature, and although 
two days before, when I set out on my pilgrimage, I had re- 
solved to discard these superfluities, yet now in my distress I 
felt as if they would comfort me. That evening, after rectifying 
a few mistakes on the part of the good-tempered gaoler, by 
writing down what I wanted on the paper which he had pro- 
cured me, I obtained all that I required. 

The next morning he informed me that the grand jury had 
found a true bill against me, and that on the Saturday next the 
assizes would be held. He also brought me the list of trials, 
and I found that mine would be one of the last, and would not 
probably come on until Monday or Tuesday. I requested him 
to send for a good tailor, as I wished to be dressed in a proper 
manner, previous to appearing in court. As a prisoner is 
allowed to go into court in his own clothes instead of the gaol 
dress, this was consented to ; and when the man came, I was 
very particular in my directions, so much so, that it surprised 
him. He also procured me the other articles I required to 
complete my dress, and on Saturday night I had them all ready; 
for I was resolved that I would at least die as a gentleman. 

Sunday passed away, not as it ought to have passed, certainly. 
I attended prayers, but my thoughts were elsewhere — how, 
indeed, could it be otherwise ? Who can control his thoughts ? 
He may attempt so to do, but the attempt is all that can be 
made. He cannot command them. I heard nothing, my mind 
wasin a state of gyration, whirling round from one thing to the 
Dther, until I was giddy from intensity of feeling. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


805 


On Monday morning the gaoler came and asked me whether 
I would have legal advice. I replied in the negative. “ Yon 
will be called about twelve o’clock, I hear,” continued he ; “it 
is now ten, and there is only one more trial before yours, about 
the stealing of four geese, and half a dozen fowls.” 

“Good God I” thought I, “and am I mixed up with such 
deeds as these ?” I dressed myself with the utmost care and 
precision, and never was more successful. My clothes were 
black, and fitted well. About one o’clock I was summoned by 
the gaoler, and led between him and another to the court- 
house, and placed in the dock. At first my eyes swam, and I 
could distinguish nothing, but gradually I recovered. I looked 
round, for I had called up my courage. My eyes wandered 
from the judge to the row of legal gentlemen below him ; from 
them to the well-dressed ladies who sat in the gallery above ; 
behind me I did not look. I had seen enough, and my cheeks 
burnt with shame. At last I looked at my fellow-culprit, who 
stood* beside me, and his eyes at the same time met mine. He 
was dressed in the gaol clothes, of pepper and salt coarse cloth. 
He was a rough, vulgar, brutal-lookiug man, but his eye was 
brilliant, his complexion was dark, and his face was covered 
with whiskers. “Good heavens !” thought I, “who will ever 
imagine or credit that we have been associates ?” 

The man stared at me, bit his lip, and smiled with contempt, 
but made no further remark. The iudictment having been read, 
the clerk of the court cried out, “You, Benjamin Ogle, having 
heard the charge, say, guilty or not guilty ?” ^ 

“Not guilty,” replied the man, to my astonishment. 

“Yon, Philip Maddox, guilty or not guilty?” 

I did not answer. 

“ Prisoner,” observed the judge in a mild voice, “ you must 
answer, guilty or not guilty. It is merely a form.” 

“ My lord,” replied I, “My name is not Philip Maddox.” 

“ That is the name given in the indictment by the evidence 
of your fellow-prisoner,” observed the judge ; “ your real name 
we cannot pretend to know. It is sufficient that you answer 


306 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


to the question of whether you, the prisoner, arc guilty or not 
guilty.” 

“ jfsot guilty, my lord, most certainly,” replied I, placing my 
hand to my heart, and bowing to him. 

The trial proceeded ; Armstrong was the principal evidence. 
To my person he would not swear. The Jew proved my sell- 
ing my clothes, purchasing those found in the bundle, and the 
stick, of which Armstrong possessed himself. The clothes I 
had on at the time of my capture were produced in court. 
As for Ogle, his case was decisive. We were then called upon 
for our defence. Ogle’s was very short. “ He had been accus- 
tomed to fits all his life — was walking to Hounslow, and had 
fallen down in a fit. It must have been somebody else who 
had committed the robbery, and had made off, and he had been 
picked up in a mistake.” This defence appeared to make no 
other impression than ridicule and indignation at the barefaced 
assertion. I was tlien called on for mine. 

“ My lord,” said I, “ I have no defence to make except- that 
which I asserted before the magistrates, that I was performing 
an act of charity towards a fellow-creature, and was, through 
that, supposed to be an accomplice. Arraigned before so many 
upon a charge, at the bare accusation of which my blood 
revolts, I cannot and will not. allow those who might prove 
what my life has been, and the circumstances which induced ine 
to take up the disguise in which I was taken, to appear in my 
behalf. I am unfortunate, but not guilty. One only chance 
appears to be open to me, which is, in the candour of the party 
who now stands by me. If he will say to the court that he 
ever saw me before, I will submit without murnjiur to my sen- 
tence.” 

“ I’m sorry that you’ve put that question, my boy,” replied 
the man, “ for I have seen you before and the wretchc buckled 
with repressed laughter. 

I was so astonished, so thunderstruck with this assertion, 
that I held down my head, and made no reply. The judge 
then summed up the evidence to the jury, pointing out to them. 


JAPHET, IX S.EARCII OF A FATHEP.. 


307 


that of Ogle’s guilt there could be no doubt, and of mine, ho 
was sorry to say, but little. Still they must bear in mind that 
the witness Armstrong could not swear to my person. The 
jury, without leaving the box, consulted together a short time, 
and brought in a verdict of guilty against Benjamin Ogle and 
Philip Maddox. I heard no more — the judge sentenced us 
both to execution : he lamented that so young and prepossess- 
ing a person as myself should be about to suffer for such an 
offence : he pointed out the necessity of condign punishment, 
and gave us no hopes of pardon or clemency. But I heard him 
not — I did not fall, but I was in a state of stupor. At last, he 
wound up his sentence by praying us to prepare ourselves for 

the awful change, by an appeal to that heavenly Father 

“ Father !” exclaimed I, in a voice which electrified the court, 
“ did you say my father ? 0 God ! where is he and I fell 

down in a fit. The handkerchiefs of the ladies were applied 
to their faces, the whole court were moved, for I had, ’by my 
appearance, excited considerable interest, and the judge, with 
a faltering, subdued voice, desired that the prisoners might be 
removed. 

“ Stop one minute, my good fellow,” said Ogle to the 
gaoler, while others were taking me out of court. “ My lord, 
I’ve something rather important to say. Why I did not say 
it before you shall hear. You are a judge, to condemn the 
guilty, and release the innocent. We are told that there is 
no trial like an English jury, but this I say, that many a man 
is hung for what he never has been guilty of. You have 
condemned that poor young man to death. I could have 
prevented it if I had chosen to speak before, but I would not, 
that I might prove how little there is of justice. He had 
nothing to do with the robbery — Phill Maddox was the man, 
and he is not Philip Maddox. He said that he never saw 
me before, nor do I believe that he ever did. As sure as .1 
shall bang, he is innocent.” 

“It was but now, that when appealed to by him, you stated 
that vou had seen him before.” 

4 * 


308 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“So I did, and I told the truth — I had seen him before. 
I saw him go to hold the gentleman’s horse, but he did not 
see me. I stole his bundle aitd his stick, which he left on 
the bench, and that’s how they were found in our possession. 
Kow you haye the truth, and you may either acknowledge 
that there is little justice, by eating your own words, and 
letting him free, or you may hang him, rather than acknow- 
ledge that you are wrong. At all events, his blood will now 
be on your hands, and not mine. If Phill Maddox had not 
turned tail, like a coward, I should not have been here ; 
so I tell the truth to save him who was doing me a kind act, 
and to let him swing who left me in the lurch.” . 

The judge desired that this statement might be taken down, 
that further inquiry might be made, intimating to the jury, 
that I should be respited for the present ; but of all this I was 
ignorant. As there was no placing confidence in the assertions 
of such a man as Ogle, it was considered necessary that he 
should repeat his assertions at the last hour of his existence, 
and the. gaoler was ordered not to state what had passed to 
me, as he might excite false hopes. 

When I recovered from my fit, I found myself in the 
gaoler’s parlor, and as soon as I was able to walk, I was 
locked up in a condemned cell. The execution had been 
ordered to take place on the Thursday, and I had two 
days to prepare. In the mean time, the greatest interest had 
been excited with regard to me. My whole appearance so 
evidently belied the charge, that every one was in my favour. 
Ogle was requestioned, and immediately gave a clue for the 
apprehension of Maddox, who, he said, he hoped would swing 
by his side. 

The gaoler came to me the next day, sa3dng, that some of 
the magistrates wished to speak wilh me ; but as I had made 
up my mind not to reveal my former life, my only reply was, 
“That I begged they would allow me to have my last moments 
to myself.” I recollected Melchior’s idea of destiny, and 
imagined that he was right. “It was my destiny,” thought 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 309 

I ; and I remained in a state of stupor. The fact was, that 
I was Tery ill, my head was heavy, my brain was on fire, and 
the throbbing of my heart could have been perceived without 
touching my breast. 

I remained on the mattress all day, and all the next nighty 
with my face buried in the clothes I I was too ill to raise my 
head. On Wednesday morning I felt myself gently pushed 
on the shoulder by some one 4 I opened my eyes ; it was a 
clergyman. I turned away my head, and remained as before. 
I was then in a violent fever. He spoke for some time ; occa- 
sionally I heard a word, and then relapsed into a state of 
mental imbecility. He sighed, and went away. 

Thursday came, and the hour of death, — but time was by me 
unheeded, as well as eternity. In the mean time Maddox had 
been taken, and the contends of Armstrong’s bundle found in 
his possession ; and when he discovered that Ogle had been 
evidence against him, he confessed to the robbery. 

Whether it was on Thursday or Friday I knew not then, 
but I was lifted off the bed, and taken before som'ebody — some- 
thing passed, but the fever had mounted up to my head, and I 
was in a state of stupid delirium. Strange to say, they did not 
perceive my condition, but ascribed it all to abject fear qf 
death. I was led away. I had made no answer — but I was 
free. 


CHAPTER LXI. 

WHEN AT THE LOWEST SPOKE OF FORTUNE’S WJIEEL, ONE IS SURE 
TO RISE AS IT TURNS ROUND — I RECOVER MY SENSES, AND FIND 
MYSELF AMONGST FRIENDS. 

I THINK some people shook me by the hand, and others shouted 
as I walked in the open air, but I recollect no more. I after- 
wards was informed that I had been reprieved, that I had 
been sent for, and a long exhortation delivered to me, for it 


310 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


was considered that my life must have been one of error, or I 
should have applied to my friends, and have given my name, 
^[y not answering was attributed to shame and confusion — my 
glassy eye had not been noticed — my tottering step when led 
in by the gaolers attributed to other causes ; and the magis- 
trates shook their heads as I was led out of their presence. 
The gaoler had asked me several times where I intended to go. 
At last, I had told him, to seek my father^ and darting away 
from him I had run like a madman down the street. Of 
course he had no longer any power over me : but he mut- 
tered as I fled from him, Pve a notion he’ll soon be locked 
up again, poor fellow I -it’s turned his brain for certain.” 

As I tottered along, my unsteady step naturally attracted 
the attention of the passers by ; but they attributed it to 
intoxication. Thus w^as I allowed to wander away in a state 
of madness, and before night I was far from the town. What 
passed, and whither I had bent my steps, I cannot tell. All 
I know is, that after running like a maniac, seizing every body 
by the arm that I met, staring at them with wild and flashing 
eyes ; and sometimes in a solemn voice, at others, in a loud, 
threatening tone, startling them with the interrogatory, “ Are 
you my father ?” and then darting away, or sobbing like a 
child, as the humour took me, I had crossed the country ; and 
three days afterwards I was picked up at the door of a house 
in the town of Reading, exhausted with fatigue and exposure, 
and nearly dead. When I recovered, I found myself in bed, 
my head shaved, my arm bound up, after repeated bleedings, 
and a female figure sitting by me. 

“ God iri heaven I where am I ?” exclaimed I, faintly. 

“ Thou hast cailed often upon thy earthly father during tin? 
time of thy illness, friend,” replied a soft voice. “ It rejoice th 
me much to hear thee call upon thy Father which is in heaven. 
Be comforted, thou art in the hands of tho^e who will be mind- 
ful of thee. Offer up thy thanks in one short prayer, for thy 
return to reason, and then sink again into repose, for thou 
must need it much.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


311 


I opened my eyes wide, and perceived that a young person 
in a Quaker’s dress was sitting by the bed working with her 
needle ; an open Bible was on a little table before her. I per- 
ceived also a cup, and parched with thirst, I merely said “Give 
me to drink.” She arose, and put a teaspoon to my lips ; but I 
raised my hand, took the cup from her, and emptied it. 0 how 
delightful was that draught I I sank down on my pillow, for 
even that slight exertion had overpowered me, and muttering, 
“ God, I thank thee I” I was immediately in a sound sleep, 
from which I did not awake for many hours. When I did, it 
was not daylight. A lamp was on the table, and an old man 
in a Quaker’s dress was snoring very comfortably in the arm- 
chair. I felt quite refreshed with my long sleep, and was now 
able to recall what had passed. I remembered the condemned 
cell and the mattress upon which I lay, but all after was in a 
state of confusion. Here and there a fact or supposition was 
strong in my memory ; but the intervals between were total 
blanks. I was, at all events, free, that I felt convinced of, and 
that I was in the hands of the sect who denominated them- 
selves Quakers : but where was I ? and how did I come here ? 
I remained thinking on the past, and wondeidug, until the day 
broke, and with the daylight roused up my watchful attendant. 
He yawned, stretched his arms, and rising from the chair, came 
to the side of my bod. I looked him in the face. “ Hast thou 
slept well, friend ?” said he. 

“ I have slept as much as I wish, and would not disturb 
replied I, “for I wanted nothing.” 

“ Peradventure I did sleep,” replied the man ; “ watching 
long agreeth not with the flesh, although the spirit is most will- 
ing. Hequirest thou anything ?” ^ 

“ Yes,” replied I, “ I wish to know where I am ?” 

“ Verily, thou art in the town of Reading, in Berkshire, and 
ill the house of Pheneas Cophagus.” 

“ Cophagus 1” exclaimed I ; “Mr. Cophagus the surgeon and 
a[)othecary ?” 

“ Pheneas Cophagus is his name ; he hath been admitted into 


312 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

our sect, and hath married a daughter of our persuasion. He 
hath attended thee in thy fever and thy frenzy, without calling 
in the aid of the physician, therefore do I believe that he must 
be the man of whom thou speakest ; yet doth he not follow up 
the healing art for the lucre of gain.” 

“And the young person who was at my bed-side, is she his 
wife ?” 

“Nay, friend, she is half-sister to the wife of Pheneas 
Cophagus by a second marriage, and a maiden, who was named 
Susannah Temple at the baptismal font ; but I will go to 
Pheneas Cophagus and acquaint him of your waking, for such 
were his directions.” 

The man then quitted the room, leaving me quite astonished 
with the information he had imparted. Cophagus turned 
Quaker ! and attending me in the town of Reading. In a 
short time Mr. Cophagus himself entered in his dressing-gown. 
“ Japhetl” said he, seizing my hand with eagerness, and then, 
as if recollecting, he checked himself, and commenced in a slow 
tone, “ Japhet Newland — truly glad am I — hum — ^verily do I 
rejoice — you, Ephraim get out of the room — and so on.” 

“ Yea, I will depart since it is thy bidding,” replied the man, 
quitting the room. 

Mr. Cophagus then greeted me in his usual way — told me 
that he had found me insensible at the door of a house a little 
way off, and had immediately recognized me. He had brought 
me to his own home, but without much hope of my recovery. 
He then begged to know by what strange chance I had been 
found in such a desolate condition. I replied, “that although 
I was able to listen, I did not feel myself equal to the exertion 
of telling so long a story, and that I should infinitely prefer 
that he should narrate to me what had passed since we had 
parted at Dublin, and how it was that I now found that he 
had joined the sect of Quakers.” 

“ Peradventure — ^long word that — um — queer people — very 
good— and ^so on,” commenced Mr. Cophagus ; but as the 
reader will not understand his phraseology quite so well 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 813 

as I did, I shall give Mr Cophagus’s history in my own 
version. 

Mr. Cophagus had returned to the small town at which he 
resided, and on his arrival, he had been called upon by a gentle- 
man who was of the Society of Friends, requesting that he 
would prescribe for a niece of his, who was on a visit at his 
house, and had been taken dangerously ill. Cophagus with his 
usual kindness of heart, immediately consented, and found that 
Mr. Temple’s report was true. For six weeks he attended the 
young Quakeress, and recovered her from an imminent and 
painful disease, in which she showed such fortitude and resigna- 
tion, and such • unconquerable good temper, that when Mr.. 
Cophagus returned to his bachelor’s establishment, he could not 
help reflecting upon what an invaluable wife she would make, 
and how much more cheerful his house would be with such a 
domestic partner. 

In short, Mr. Cophagus fell in love, and like all elderly gen- 
tlemen who have so long bottled up their affections, he became 
most desperately enamoured ; and if he loved . Miss Judith 
Temple when he witnessed her patience and resignation under 
suffering, how much more did he love her when he found that 
she was playful, merry, and cheerful, without being boisterous, 
when restored to her health. Mr. Cophagus’s attentions could 
not be misunderstood. He told her uncle that he had thought 
seriously of wedding cake — white favours — marriage — family — 
and so on ; and to the young lady he had put his cane up to 
his nose and prescribed, “ A dose of matrimony — to be taken 
immediately.” To Mr. Cophagus there was no objection raised 
by the lady, who was not in her teens, or by the uncle, who had 
always respected him as a worthy man, and a good Christian ; 
but to marry one who wms not of her persuasion, was not 
to be thought of. Her friends would not consent to it. ^fr. 
Cophagus was therefore dismissed, with a full assurance that 
the only objection which offered was that he was not of their 
society. 

Mr. Cophagus walked home discomforted. He sat down on 
14 


314 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


his easy chair, and found it excessively uneasy — ^he sat down tc 
his solitary meal, and found that his own company was unbear- 
able — ^he went to bed, but found that it was impossible to go to 
sleep. The next morning, therefore, Mr. Cophagus returned 
to Mr. Temple, and stated his wish to be made acquainted with 
the difference between the tenets of the Quaker persuasion and 
those of the Established Church. Mr. Temple gave him an 
outline, which appeared to Mr. Cophagus to be very satisfac- 
tory, and then referred him to his niece for fuller particulars. 
When a man enters into an argument with a full desire to be 
convinced, and with his future happiness perhaps depending 
.upon that conviction ; and when, further, those arguments are 
brought forward by one of the prettiest voices, and backed by 
the sweetest of smiles, it is not to be wondered at his soon be- 
coming a proselyte. Thus it was with Mr. Cophagus, who in a 
week discovered that the peace, humility, and good-will upon 
which the Quaker tenets are founded, were much more con- 
genial to the true spirit of the Christian revelation than the 
Athanasian Creed, to be sung or said in our Established 
Churches ; and with this conviction, Mr. Cophagus requested 
admission into the fraternity ; and shortly after his admission, 
it was thought advisable by the Friends that his faith should 
be confirmed and strengthened by his espousal of Miss Judith 
Temple, with whom, at her request — and -he could refuse her 
nothing — he had repaired to the town of Reading, in which her 
relations all resided ; and Pheneas Cophagus, of the Society of 
Friends, declared himself to be as happy as a man could be. 
Good people, Japhet — ^uin — ^honest people, Japhet — don’t fight 
— little stiff — spirit moves — and so on,” said Mr. Cophagus, as 
he concluded his narrative, and then shaking me by the hand, 
retired to shave and dress. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 


315 


CHAPTER EXIT. • 

1 FALL IN LOVE WITH RELIGION WHEN PREACHED BY ONE WHO HAS 
THE FORM OF AN ANGEL. 

In half an hour afterwards Ephraim came in with a draught, 
which I was desired to take by Mr. Cophagus, and then to try 
and sleep. This was good advice, and I followed it. I awoke, 
after a long, refreshing sleep, and found Mr. and Mrs. Copha- 
gus sitting in the room, she at work and he occupied with a 
book. When I opened my eyes, and perceived a female, I 
looked to ascertain if it was the young person whom Ephraim 
had stated to be Susannah Temple j not that I recollected her 
features exactly, but I did the contour of her person. Mrs. 
Cophagus was taller, and I had a fair scrutiny of her before 
they perceived that I was awake. Her face w'as very pleasing, 
features small -and regular. She appeared to be about thirty 
years of age, and was studiously neat and clean in her person. 
Her Quaker's dress was not without some little departure from 
the strict fashion and form, suflScient to assist, without deviat- 
ing from, its simplicity. If I might use the term, it was a little 
coquetish, and evinced that the wearer, had she not belonged to 
that sect, would have shown great taste in the adornment of 
her person. 

Mr. Cophagus, although he did not think so himself, as I 
afterwards found out, was certainly much improved by his 
change of costume. His spindle shanks, which, as I have 
before observed, were peculiarly at variance with his little 
orbicular, orange-shaped stomach, were now concealed in loose 
trowsers, which took off from the protuberance of the latter, 
and added dignity to the former, blending the two together, so 
that his roundness becam^fine by degrees, and beautifully less 
as it descended. Altogether, the Quaker dress added very 
much to the subst antiability of his appearance, and was a 
manifest improvement, especially when he wore his broad- 


316 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


brimmed hat. Having satisfied my curiosity, I moved tlie cur. 
tain so as to attract their attention, and Copliagus came to my 
bedside, and felt my pulse. “ Good — very good — all right — 
little broth — throw in bark — on his legs — well as ever— and so 
on.” 

“ I am indeed much better this afternoon,” replied I ; 

indeed, so well, that I feel as if I could get up.” 

“ Pooh : — tumble down — never do — lie a bed — get strong — 
wife — Mrs. Cophagus — Japhet — old friend.” 

Mrs. Cophagus had risen from her chair, and come towards 
the bed, when her husband introduced her in his own fashion. 
“I am afraid that I have been a great trouble, madam,” 
?aid I. 

“ Japhet Newland, we have done but our duty, even if thou 
^vcrt not, as it appears that thou art, a friend of my husband. 
Consider me, therefore, as thy sister, and I will regard thee as 
a brother ; and if thou wouldst wish it, thou shalt sojourn 
with us, for so hath my husband communicated his wishes untc 
me.” 

I thanked her for her kind expressions, and took the fair 
hand which was offered in such amity. Cophagus then asked 
me if I was well enough to inform him of what had passed since 
our last meeting, and telling me that his wife knew my whole 
history, and that I might speak before her, he took his seat by 
tlie side of the bed, his wife also drew her chair nearer, and 
I commenced the narrative of what had passed since we parted 
in Ireland. When I had finished, Mr. Cophagus commenced 

as usual, “ IJm — very odd — lose money — bad — grow honest 

good — run away from friends — bad— not hung — good brain 

fever — bad — come here — ^good — stay with us — quite comforta- 
ble — and so on.” 

Thou hast suffered much, friend Japhet,” said Mrs. Cop- 
liagus, wiping her eyes ; ‘‘ and I would almost venture to say, 
hast been chastised too severely, were it not that those whom 
He lovetii. He chastiseth. Still thou art saved, and now 
out of danger ; perad venture thou wilt now quit a vain world, 


TAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


317 


and be content to live with us ; nay, as thou hast the example 
of thy former master, it may perhaps please the Lord to advise 
thee to become one of us, and to join us as a Friend. My 
husband was persuaded to the right path by me,” continued 
she, looking fondly at him ; “ w^ho knoweth but some of our 
maidens may also persuade thee to eschew a vain, unrighteous 
world, and follow thy Eedeemer in humility ?” 

“Yery true — um — ^very true,” observed Cophagus, putting 
more Quakerism than usual in his style, and drawing out his 
urns to treble their usual length ; “ Happy hfe — Japhet — ^um — 
all at peace — quiet amusements — thmk about it — um — no hurry 
— ^never swear — ^by-and-by, heh ! — spirit may move — um — not 
now — talk about it — get well — set up shop — and so on.” 

I w^as tired with talking so much, and having taken some 
nourishment, again fell asleep. When I awoke in the evening, 
friend Cophagus and his wife were not in the room ; but 
Susannah Temple, whom I had first seen, and of whom I 
had made inquiry of Ephraim, who was Cophagus’s servant. 
She was sitting close to the light and reading, and long did 
I continue to gaze upon her, fearful of interrupting her. She 
was the most beautiful specimen of clear and transparent white 
that I ever had beheld — her complexion was unrivalled — her 
eyes were large, but I could not ascertain their colour,, as they 
were cast down upon her book, and hid by her long fringe'd eye- 
lashes— her eyebrows arched and regular, as if drawn by a pair 
of compasses, and their soft hair in beautiful contrast with 
her snowy forehead, — her hair was auburn, but mostly con- 
cealed within her cap — her nose was very straight but not very 
large, and her mouth was perfection. She appeared to bo 
between seventeen and eighteen years old, as far as I could 
ascertain : her figure w'as symmetrically perfect. Dressed as 
she was in the modest, simple garb worn by the females of the 
Society of Friends, she gave an idea of neatness, cleanliness, 
and propriety upon which I could have gazed for ever. She 
was, indeed, most beautiful. I felt her beauty, her purity, and 
I could have worshipped her as an angel. While I still had my 


318 


J'APHET, IN SEAKCH OF A FATHER. 


eyes fixed upon her exquisite features, slie closed her book, and 
rising from her chair, came to the side of the bed. That she 
might not be startled at the idea of my having been watching 
her, I closed my eyes, and pretended to slumber. She resumed 
her seat, and then I changed my position and spoke, “ Js any 
one there V’ 

“Yes, friend Newland, what is that thou requires! said 
she, advancing. “Wouldst thou see Cophagus or Ephraim? 
I will summon them.^^ 

“ 0 no,” replied I ; “ why should I disturb them from their 
amusements or employments ; I have slept a long while, and I 
would like to read a little, I think, if my eyes are not too 
weak.” , o 

“ Thou must not read, but I may read unto thee,” replied 
Susannah. “ Tell me, what is it that thou wouldest have me 
read ? I have no vain books ; but surely thou thinkest not of 
them, after thy escape from death.” 

“ I care not what is read, provided that you read to me,^' 
replied I. 

“Nay, but thou shouldest care : and be not wroth if I say 
to thee, that there is but one book to which thou shouldest now 
listen. Thou hast been saved from deadly peril — thou hast 
been rescued from the jaws of death. Art thou not thankful ? 
And to whom is gratitude most due, but to thy heavenly Fa- 
ther, who has been pleased to spare thee ?” 

“You are right,” replied I ; “ then I pray you to read to me 
from the Bible.” 

^ Susannah made no reply, but resumed her seat ; and select- 
• ing those chapters most appropriate to my situation, read them 
in a beautiful and impressive tone 


JAPHET, iJf SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


319 


CHAPTER LXIII. 

PRIDE AND LOVE AT ISSUE— THE LATTER IS VICTORIOUS — I TURN 
QUAKER, AND RECOMMENCE MY OLD PROFESSION. 

If the reader will recall my narrative to his recollection, he 
must observe, that religion had had hitherto but little of my 
thoughts. I had lived the life of most who live iu this world ; 
perhaps not quite so correct in morals as many people, for my 
code of morality was suited to circumstances ; as to religion, I 
had none. I had lived in the world, and for the world. I had 
certainly been well instructed in the tenets of our faith when I 
was at the Asylum, but there, as in most other schools, it is 
made irksome, as a tqisk, and is looked upon with almost a feel- 
ing of aversion. No proper religious sentiments are, or can be, 
inculcated to a large number of scholars ; it is the parent alone 
who can instil, by precept and example, that true sense of reli- 
gion, which may serve as a guide through life. I had not read 
the- Bible from the time that I quitted the Foundling Hospital. 
It was new to me, and when I now heard read, by that beauti- 
ful creature, passages equally beautiful, and so applicable to my 
situation, weakened by disease, and humbled in adversity, I was 
moved, even unto tears. 

Susannah closed the book and came to the bedside. I 
thanked her : she perceived my emotion, and when I held out 
my hand she did not refuse hers. I kissed it, and it was imme- 
diately withdrawn, and she left the room. Shortly afterwards 
Ephraim made his appearance. Cophagus and his wife also 
came that evening, but I saw no more of Susannah Temple until 
the following day, when I again requested her to read to me. 

I will not detain the reader by an account of my recovery. 
In three weeks I was able to leave the room; during that time 
I had become very intimate with the whole family, and was 
treated as if I belonged to it. During my illness I had cer- 
tainly shown more sense of religion than I had ever done before, 


320 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

but I do not mean to say that I was really religious. I liked U 
hear the Bible read by Susannah, and I liked to talk with her 
upon religious subjects; but had Susannah been an ugly old 
woman, I very much doubt if I should have been so attentive. 
It was her extreme beauty — her modesty and fervour, which 
so became her, which enchanted me. I fe*lt the* beauty of 
religion, but it was through an earthly object; it was beautiful 
in her. She looked an angel, and I listened to her precepts as 
delivered by one. Still, whatever may be the cause by which 
a person’s attention can be directed to so important a subject, 
so generally neglected, whether by fear of death, or by love 
towards an earthly object, the advantages are the same; and 
although very far from what I ought to have been, I certainly 
was, through my admiration of her, a better man. 

As soon as I was on the sofa, wrapped up in one of the 
dressing-gowns of Mr. Cophagus, he told me that the clothes 
in which I had been picked up were all in tatters, and asked 
me whether I would like to have others made according to the 
usual fashion, or like those with whom I should, he trusted, in 
future reside. I had already debated this matter in my mind. 
Keturn to the world I had resolved not to do ; to follow up the 
object of my search appeared to me only to involve me in diffi- 
culties; and what were the intentions of Cophagus with regard 
to me, I knew not. I was hesitating, for I knew not what 
answer to give, when I perceived the pensive, deep blue eye of 
Susannah fixed upon me, watching attentively, if not eagerly, 
for my response. 

It decided the point. “If,” replied I, “you do not think 
that I should disgrace you, I should wish to wear the dress of 
the Society of Friends, although not yet one of your body.” 

“ But soon to be, I trust,” replied Mrs. Cophagus. 

“Alas!” replied I, “I am an outcast;” and I looked at 
Susannah Temple. 

“ Not so, Japhet Newland,” replied she, mildly; “ I am 
pleased that thou hast of thy own accord rejected vain attire. 

I trust that tliou wilt not find that thou art without friends ” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


321 


While I am with you,” replied I, addressing myself to them 
all, “I consider it my duty to conform to your manners ir 

every way, but by-and-by, when I resume my search ” 

“ And why shouldst thou resume a search which must prove 
unavailing, and but leads thee into error and misfortune ? I am 
but young, Japhet Newland, and not perhaps so able to advise, 
yet doth it appear to me, that the search can only be availing 
when made by those who left thee. When they wish for you 
they will seek thee, but thy seeking them* is vain and fruitless.” 

But,” replied I, “ recollect that inquiries have already been 
made at the Foundling, and those who inquired have been sent 
away disappointed — they will inquire no more.” 

“ And is a parent’s love so trifling, that one disappointoent 
will drive him from seeking of his child? No, no, Japhet; if 
thou art yearned for, thou wilt be found, and fresh inquiries 
will be made; but thy search is unavailing, and already hast 
thou lost much time.” 

“ True, Susannah, thy advice is good,” replied Mrs. Copha- 
gus; ^‘ iu following a shadow Japhet hath much neglected' the 
substance; it is time that thou shouldst settle thyself, and earn 
thy livelihood.” . • • 

“And do thy duty in that path of life to which it hath 
pleased God to call thee,” continued Susannah, who, with Mrs. 
Cophagus, walked out of the room. 

Cophagus then took up the conversation, and pointing out 
the uselessness of my roving about, and the propriety of my 
settling in life, proposed that I should take an apothecary’s 
sJiop, for which he would furnish the means, and that he could 
insure me the custom of the whole Society of Friends in Read- 
ing, which was very large, as there was not one of the sect in 
that line of business. “ Become one of us, J aphet — good 
business — marry by-and-by — happy life — little children — and 
so on.” I thought of Susannah, and was silent. Cophagus 
then said I had better reflect upon his offer, and make up my 
determination. If that did not suit me, he would still give mo 
all the assistance in his power. 

U* 


322 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A bATHER. 

I did reflect long before I could make up my mind. I was 
still worldly inclined •; still my fancy would revel in the idea of 
finding out my father in high life, and, as once more appearing 
as a star of fashion, of returning with interest the contumely I 
had lately received, and re-assuming as a right that position in 
society which I had held under false colours. 

I could not bear the. idea of sinking at once into a trades- 
man, and probably ending my days in obscurity. Pride was 
still my ruling passion. ’ Such were my first impulses, and then 
I looked upon the other side of the picture. I was without 
the means necessary to support myself ; I could not return to 
high life without I discovered my parents in the first place, and 
in the second, found them to be such as my warm imagination 
had depicted. I had no chance of finding them. I had already 
been long seeking in vain. I had been twice taken up to Bow 
Street — nearly lost my life in Ireland — had been sentenced to 
death — had been insane, and recovered by a miracle, and all in 
prosecuting this useless search. All this had much contributed 
to cure me of the monomania. I agreed with Susannah that 
the search must be made by the other parties, and not by me. 
I recalled 4he treatment I had • received from the world — the 
contempt with which I had been treated — ^the heartlessness of 
high life, and the little chance of my ever again being admitted 
into fashionable society. 

I placed all this in juxtaposition with the kindness of those 
with whom I now resided — what they had done already for me, 
and what they now offered, which was to make me independent 
by my own exertions. I weighed all in my mind ; was still 
undecided, for my pride still carried its weight; when I 
thought of the pure, beautiful Susannah Temple, and — my deci- 
sion was made. I would not lose the substance by running 
after shadows. 

That evening, with many thanks, I accepted the kind offers 
of Mr. Cophagus, and expressed my determination of entering 
uto the Society of Friends. 

Thou hast chosen wisely,” said Mrs. Cophagus, extending 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 32S 

Her hand to me, “ and it is with pleasure that we shall receiTc 
thee.” 

welcome thee, Japhet Newland,” said Susannah, also 
offering her hand| “ and I trust that thou wilt find more happi- 
ness among those with whom thou art about to sojourn, than 
in the world of yanity and deceit, in which thou hast hitherto 
played thy part. No longer seek an earthly father, who hath 
deserted thee, but a heavenly Father, who will not desert thee 
in thy afflictions.” 

“You shall direct me into the right path, Susannah,” 
replied I. 

“ I am too young to be a guide, Japhet,” replied she, smil- 
ing ; “ but not too young, I hope, to be a friend.” 

The next day my clothes came home, and I put them on. I 
looked at myself in the glass, and was any thing but pleased ; 
but as my head was shaved, it was of little consequence what 
I wore ; so I consoled myself. Mr. Cophagus sent for a barber 
and ordered me a wig, which was to be ready in a few days ; 
when it was -ready I put it on, and altogether did not dislike 
my appearance. I flattered myself that if I was' a Quaker, at 
all events I was a very good looking and a very smart one ; 
and when, a day or two afterwards a re-union of friends took 
place at Mr. Cophagus’s house to introduce me to them, I per- 
ceived, with much satisfaction, that there was no young man 
who could compete with me. After this, I was much more 
reconciled to my transformation. 


CHAPTER LXIV 

I PROSPER- IN EVERY WAY, AND BECOME RECONCILED TO MY 
SITUATION. 

Mr. Cophagus' was not idle. In a few weeks he had rented a 
a shop for me, and furnished it much better than his own in 


324 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


Bmitlilield ; the upper part of the house Was let olf, as I was tc 
reside with the family. When it was ready, I went over it with 
him, and was satisfied j all I wished for was Timothy as an 
assistant, but that wish was unavailing, as I knew not where to 
find him. 

That evening I observed to Mr. Cophagus, that I did not 
much like putting my name over the shop. The fact was, that 
iny pride forbade it, and I could not bear the idea that Japhet 
Kewland, at whose knock every aristocratic door had flown 
open, should appear in gold letters above a shop-window. 
“ There are many reasons against it,^’ observed I. “ One is, 
that it is not my real name — I should like to take the name of 
Cophagus ; another is, that the name, being so well known, 
may attract those who formerly knew me, and I should not 
wish that they should come in and mock me ; another is ” 

“Japhet Newland,” interrupted Susannah, with more seve- 
rity than I ever had seen in her sweet countenance, “ do not 
trouble thyself with giving thy reasons, seeing thou hast 
given every reason but the right one, which is, that thy pride 
revolts at it.”' 

“ I was about to observe,” replied I, “ that it was a name 
that sounded of mammon, and not fitting for one of our persua- 
sion. But, Susannah, you have accused me of pride, and I will 
now raise no further objections. Japhet Newland it shall be, 
and let us speak no more upon the subject.” 

“If I have wronged thee, Japhet, much do I crave- thy for- 
giveness,” replied Susannah. “ But it is God alone who know- 
eth the secrets of our hearts. I was presumptuous ; and you 
must pardon me.” 

“ Susannah, it is I who ought to plead for pardon ; you 
know me better than I know myself. It was pride, and nothing 
but pride — but you have cured me.” 

“Truly I have hopes of thee now, Japhet,” replied Susan- 
nah, smiling. “ Those who confess their faults will soon amend 
them ; yet I do think there is some reason in thy observation, 
for who knoweth, but meetii*g with thy former associates, thou 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 325 

mayest be tempted into falling away ? Thou mayest spell thy 
name as thou listest ; and, peradventure, it would be better to 
disguise it.” 

So agreed Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, and 1 therefore had it 
written Grotc-land; and having engaged a person of the society, 
strongly recommended to me, as an assistant, I took possession 
of my shop, and was very soon busy in making up prescriptions, 
and dispensing my medicines In all quarters of the good town 
of Reading. 

And I was happy. I had enjoyment during the day ; my 
profession was, at all events, liberal. I was dressed and lived 
as a gentleman, or rather, I should say, respectably. I was 
earning my owft livelihood. I was a useful member of society, 
and when I retired home to meals, and late at night, I found, 
that if Cophagus and his wife had retired, Susannah Temple 
always waited up, and remained with me a few minutes. I had 
never been in love until I had fallen in with this perfect 
creature ; but my love for her was not the love of the world ; 
I could not so depreciate her — I loved her as a superior being 
— I loved her with fear and trembling. I felt that she was too 
pure, too holy, too good, for a vain, worldly creature like 
myself. I felt as if my destiny depended upon her and her fiat; 
that if she favoured me, my happiness in this w'orld and in the 
next were secured; that if she rejected me, I was cast away for 
ever. Such was my feeling for Susannah Temple, vi^ho, perfect 
as she was, was still a woman, and perceived her power over 
me ; but unlike the many of her sex, exerted that power only 
to lead to what was right. Insensibly almost, my pride was 
quelled, and I became humble and religiously inclined. Even 
the peculiarities of the sect, their meeting at their places of 
worship, their drawling, and their quaint manner of talking,, 
became no longer a subject of dislike. I found out causes and 
good reasons for everything which before appeared strange — 
sermons in stones, and good in everything. Months passed 
away — my business prospered — had nearly repaid the money 
advanced by Mr. Cophagus. I was in heart and soul a Quaker, 


326 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


and I entered into the fraternity with a feeling that I co ild act 
up to what I had promised. I was happy, quite happy, and 
yet I had never received from Susannah Temple any further 
than the proofs of sincere friendship. But I had much of her 
society, and we were now very, very intimate. I found out 
what warm, what devoted feelings were concealed under hei 
modest, quiet exterior — ^how well her mind was stored, and 
how right was that mind. ^ 

Often jvhcn I talked over past events did I listen to her 
remarks, all tending to one point, morality and virtue ; often 
did I receive from her at first a severe, but latterly a kind 
rebuke, when my discourse was light and frivolous ; but when 
I talked of merry subjects which were innocent, what could be 
more joyous or more exhilarating than her laugh — what more 
intoxicating than her sweet smile, when she approved of my 
sentiments I and when animated by the subject, what could be 
more musical or more impassioned than her bursts of eloquence, 
w'hich were invariably followed by a deep blush, when she 
recollected how she had been carried away by excitement. 

There was one point upon which I congratulated myself, 
which was that she had received two or three unexceptionable 
offers of marriage during the six months that I had been in her 
company, and refused them. At the end of that period, thanks 
to the assistance I received from the Friends, I had paid Mr. 
Cophagus all the money which he had advanced, and found 
myself in possession of a flourishing business, and independent. 
I then requested that I might be allowed to pay an annual 
stipend for my board and lodging, commencing from the time I 
first came to his house. Mr. Cophagus said I was .right, the 
terms were easily arranged, and I wms independent. 

Still my advances with Susannah were slow, but if slow, they 
were sure. One day I observed to her, how happy Mr. Copha- 
gus appeared to be as a married man : her reply was, “ He is, 
Japhet ; he has worked hard for his independence, and he is 
now reaping the fruits of his industry.” That is as much as to 
say that I must do the same, thought I and that I have nc 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER, . 32/ 

business to propose for a wife until I am certain that I am able 
to provide for her. I have as yet laid up nothing, and an 
income is not a capital. I felt that whether a party interested 
or not, she was right, and I redoubled my diligence. 


CHAPTER LXV. 

A VARIETY OF THE QUAKER TRIBE WHO HAD A CURIOUS DISIN- 

TEGRATION OF MIND AND BODY. 

I WAS not yet weaned from the world, but I was fast advancing 
to that state, when a very smart young quaker came on a visit 
to Reading. He was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, 
and was soon, as might be expected, an admirer of Susannah, 
but he received no encouragement. He was an idle person, 
and passed much of his time sitting in my shop, and talking 
with me, and being much less reserved and unguarded than the 
generality of the young men of the sect, I gradually became 
intimate with him. One day, when my assistant was out, he 
said to me, “Friend Grow-land, tell me candidly, hast thou 
ever seen my face before 

“Not that I can recollect, friend Talbot.” 

“ Then my recollection is better than yours, and now having 
obtained thy friendship as one of the society, I will remind thee 
of our former acquaintance. When thou wert Mr. N-e-w-land, 
walking about town with Major Oarbonnell, I was Lieutenant 
Talbot, of the Dragoon Guards.” 

I was dumb with astonishment, and I stared him in the face. 

“ Yes,” continued he, bursting into laughter, “ such is the fact. 
You have thought, perhaps, that you were the only man of 
fashion who had ever been transformed into a Quaker ; now 
you behold another, so no longer imagine yourself the Phmnix 
of your tribe.” 

“ I do certainly recollect that name,” replied I ; “ but although 


328 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


as you must be acquainted with my bistory, it is very easy tc 
conceive why I have joined the society, yet upon what grounds 
you can have so done is to me inexplicable.” 

“ Newland, it certainly does require explanation : it has 
been, I assert, my misfortune, and not my fault. Not that 1 
am not happy. On the contrary, I feel that I am now in ni} 
proper situation. I ought to have been born of Quaker parents 
— at all events, I was born a Quaker in disposition ; but I will 
come to-morrow early, and then, if you will give your man 
something to do out of the way, I will tell you my history. I 
know that you will keep my secret.” 

The next morning he came, and as soon as we were alone he 
imparted to me what follows : 

“ I recollect well, Newland, when you were one of the 
leaders of fashion. I was then in the Dragoon Guards, and 
although not very intimate with you, had the honour of a re- 
cognition when we met at parties. I cannot help laughing, 
upon my soul, when I look at us both now ; but never mind. 
I was of course a great deal with my regiment, and at the club. 
My father, as you may not perhaps be aware, was highly con- 
nected, and all the family have been brought up in the army : 
the question of profession has never been mooted by us ; and 
every Talbot has turned out a soldier as naturally as a young 
duck takes to the water. Well, I entered the army, admired 
my uniform, and was admired by the young ladies. Before I 
received my lieutenant^s commission, my father, the old gentle- 
man, died, and left me a younger brother’s fortune, of four hun- 
dred per annum ; but, as my uncle said, ‘ It was quite enough 
for a Talbot, who would push himself forward in his profession, 
as the Talbots had ever done before him.’ I soon found out 
that my income was not sufficient to enable me to continue in 
the Guards, and my uncle was very anxious that I should ex- 
change into a regiment on service. I therefore, by purchase, 
obtained a company in the 23d, ordered out to reduce the 
French colonies in the West Indies ; and I sailed with all the 
expectation of covering myself with as much glory as the Tal- 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


329 


bots had done from time immemorial. We landed, and in a 
short time the bullets and grape were flying in all directions, and 
then I discovered, what I declare never for a moment came into 
my head before, to wit — that I had mistaken my profession.” 

“ How do you mean Talbot ?” 

“ Mean ! why, that I was deficient in a certain qualification, 
which never was before denied to a Talbot — courage.” 

“ And you never knew that before ?” 

“ x^ever upon my honour ; my mind was always full of cour- 
age. In my mind’s eye I built castles of feats of bravery which 
should eclipse all the Talbots, from him who burnt Joan of Arc 
down to the present day. I assure you, that surprised as other 
people were, no one was more surprised than myself. Our 
regiment was ordered to advance, and I led on my company ; 
the bullets flew like hail. I tried to go on, but I could not ; 
at last, notwithstanding all my endeavours to the contrary, I 
fairly took to my heels. I was met by the commanding officer 
— in fact, I ran against him. He ordered me back, and I re- 
turned to my regiment, not feeling at all afraid. Again I was 
in the fire, again I resisted the impulse, but it was of no use ; 
and at last, just before the assault took place, I ran away as if 
the devil was after me. Wasn’t it odd?” 

“ Very odd indeed,” replied I, laughing. 

“ Yes, but you do not exactly understand why it was odd. 
You know what philosophers tell you about volition ; and 
that the body is governed by the mind, consequently obeys 
it ; now, you see, in my case, it was exactly reversed. I tell 
you, that it is a fact, that in mind I am as brave as any man 
in existence : but I had a cowardly carcase, and what is still 
worse, it proved the master of my mind, and ran away with it. 
I had no mind to run away ; on the contrary, I wished to have 
been of the forlorn hope, and had volunteered, but was refused. 
Surely, if I had not courage I should have avoided such a post 
of danger. Is it not so ?” 

“It certainly appears strange, that you should volunteer for 
the forlorn hope and then run away.” 


330 JAPHET, IX SEARCH* OF A FATHER. 

“ That’s just what I say. I have the soul of the Talbots, but 
a body which don’t belong to the family, and too powerful for 
the soul.” 

“ So it appears. Well, go on.” 

“ It was go off, instead of going on. I tried again that day 
to mount the breach, and as the fire was over, I succeeded ; but 
there was a mark against me, and it was intimated that 1 
should have an opportunity of redeeming my character.” 

“ Well ?” 

‘‘ There was a fort to be stormed the next day, and I 
requested to lead my company in advance. Surely that was 
no proof of want of courage ? Permission was granted. W e 
were warmly received, and I felt that my legs refused tc 
advance ; so what did I do — I tied my sash round my thigh, 
and telling the men that I was wounded, requested they would 
carry me to the attack. Surely that was courage ?” 

“ Most undoubtedly so. It was like a Talbot.” 

“We were at the foot of the breach ; when the shot flew 
about me, I kicked and wrestled so, that the two men who 
carried me were obliged to let me go, and my rascally body 
was at liberty. I say unfortunately, for only conceive, if they 
had carried me wounded up the breach, what an heroic act it 
would have been considered on my part ; but fate decided it 
otherwise. If I had lain still when they dropped me, I should 
have done well, but I was anxious to get up the breach, that 
is, my mind was so bent ; but as soon as I got on my legs, 
confound them if they didn’t run away with me, and then I 
was found half a mile from the fort with a pretended wound. 
That was enough ; I had a hint that the sooner I went home 
the better. On account of the family I was permitted to sell 
Out, and then I walked the streets as a private gentleman, 
but ho one would speak to me. I argued the point with 
several, but they were obstinate, and would not be convinced ; 
they said that it was no use talking about being brave, if I 
ran away.” 

“ They were not philosophers, Talbot.” 


JAPHET, IN' SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


331 


“No ; they could not comprehend how the mind and the 
body could be at variance. It was no use arguing — they 
would have it lhat the movements of the body depended upon 
the mind, and that I had made a mistake — and that I was a 
coward in soul as well as body.” 

“ Well, what did you do 

“ Oh, I did nothing ? I had a great mind to knock them 
down, but as I knew my body would not assist me, I thought 
it better to leave it alone. However, they taunted me so, by 
calling me fighting Tom, that my uncle shut his door upon me 
as a disgrace to the family, saying, he wished the first bullet 
had laid me dead — very kind of him ; — at last my patience 
was worn out, and I looked about to find whether there were 
not some people who did not consider courage as a sine qua 
non. I found that the Quakers’ tenets were against fighting, 
and therefore courage could not be necessary, so I have joined 
them, and I find that, if not a good soldier, I am, at all 
events, a very respectable Quaker ; and now you have the 
whole of my story — and tell me if you are of my opinion.” 

“ Why, really, it’s a very difficult point to decide. I never 
heard such a case of disintegration before. I must think upon it.” 

■ “ Of course, you will not say a word about it, Newland.” 

“Never fear, I will keep your secret, Talbot. How long 
have you worn the dress ?” 

“Oh, more than a year. By-the-by, what a nice young 
person that Susannah Temple is. I’ve a great mind to propose 
for her.” 

“ But you must first ascertain what your body says to it, 
Talbot,” replied I, sternly. “ I allow no one to interfere with 
me, Quaker or not. ’ 

“My dear fellow,'! beg your pardon, I shall think no more 
about her,” said Talbot, rising up, as he observed that I 
looked very fierce. “ I wish you a good morning. I leave 
Reading to-morrow. I will call on you and say good-bye, if I 
can and I saw no more of friend Talbot, whose mind was 
all courage, but whose body was so renegade. 


332 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


C H A P T E K L X Y I . 

I FALL IN WITH TIMOTHY. 

About a montli after this, I heard a sailor with one leg, and a 
handful of ballads, singing in a most lachrymal tone, 

“ Why, ■what’s'that to you if my eyes I’m a wiping? 

A tear is a pleasure, d’ye see, in its way — 

Bless your honour, shy a copper to poor Jack, who’s lost his 
leg in the sarvice. Thanky, your honour,” and he continued, 

“ It’s nonsense for trifles, I own, to be piping. 

But they who can’t pity — why I pities they. 

Says the captain, says he, I shall never forget it. 

Of courage, you know, boys, the true from the sham. 

Back your maiiitop-sail, your worship, for half a minute, and 
just assist a poor dismantled craft, who has been riddled in the 
wars. — ‘ ’Tis a furious lion.’’ Long life to your honour — ‘ In bat- 
tle so let it — ’ 

• “ ’Tis a furious lion, in battle so let it ; 

But duty appeased — but duty appeased — 

Buy a song, young woman, to sing to your sweetheart, while 
you sit on his knee in the dog-watch — 

“ But duty appeased, ’tis the heart of a lamb. ’ 

I believe there are few people who do not take a strong 
interest in the English sailor, particularly in one who has been 
maimed in the defence of his country. I always have ; and as 
I heard the poor disabled fellow bawling out his ditty, cer- 
tainly not with a very remarkable voice or execution, I pulled 
out the drawer behind the counter, and took out some halfpence 
to give him.' When I caught his eye I beckoned to him, and 
he entered the shop. “ Here, my good fellow,” said I, “ al- 
though a man of peace myself, yet I feel for those who suffer in 
the wars j” and I put the money to him. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. - 333 

“ May your honour never know a banyan day,” replied the 
sailor ; “ and a sickly season for you, into the bargain.” 

“ Nay, friend, that is not a kind wish to others,” replied I. 

The sailor fixed his eyes earnestly upon me, as if in astonish- 
ment, for, until I had answered, he had not looked at me 
particularly. 

“ What are you looking at ?” said I. 

“ Good heavens !” exclaimed he. “ It is — ^yet it cannot be 1” 

“ Cannot be I what, friend ?” 

He ran out of the door, and read the name over the shop, 
and then came in, and sank upon a chair outside of the 
counter. “ Japhet — I have found you at last !” exclaimed he, 
faintly. 

“ Good heaven I who are you ?” 

He threw off his hat, with false ringlets fastened to the 
inside of it, and I beheld Timothy. In a moment I sprang 
over the** counter, and was in his arms. ‘‘Is it possible,” 
exclaimed I, after a short silence on both sides, “ that I find 
you a disabled sailor ?” 

“Is it possible, Japhet,” replied Timothy, “ that I find you 
a broad-brimmed Quaker ?” 

“ Even so, Timothy. I am really and truly one.” 

“ Then you are less disguised than I am,” rephed Timothy, 
kicking off his wooden leg, and letting down his own, which 
had been tied up to his thigh, and concealed in his wide blue 
trowsers. “lam no more a sailor than you are, Japhet, and 
since you left me have never yet seen the salt water, which I 
talk and sing so much about.” 

“Then thou hast been deceiving, Timothy, which I regret 
much.” 

“ Now I do perceive that you are a Quaker,” replied Tim ; 
“ but do not blame me until you have heard my story. Thank 
God, I have found you at last. But tell me, Japhet, you will 
not send me away— will you ? If your dress is changed, ypu 
heart is not. Pray answer me, before I say any thing more 
Voii know I can be useful here.” 


334 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“ Indeed, Timothy, I have often wished for you since 1 have 
been here, and it will be your own fault if I part with you. 
You shall assist me in the shop ; but you must dress like me.” 

“Dress like you I have I not always dressed like you? 
When we started from Cophagus\s, were we not dressed much 
alike ? did we not wear spangled jackets together ? did I not 
wear your livery, and belong to you ? I’ll put on any thing, 
Japhet — but we must not part again.” 

“ My dear Timothy, I trust we shall not ; but I expect my 
assistant here soon, and do not wish that he should see you in 
that garb. Go to a small public-house at the further end of 
the street, and when you see me pass, come out to me, and we 
will walk out into the country, and consult together.” 

“ I have put up at a small house not far off, and have some 
clotligs there ; I will alter my dress and meet you. God bless 
you, Japhet.” 

Timothy then picked up his ballads, which were scdi;tered on 
the floor, put up his leg, and putting on his wooden stump, 
hastened away, after once more silently pressing my hand. 

In half an hour my assistant returned, and I desired him to 
remain in the shop, as I was going out on business. I then 
walked to the appointed rendezvous, and was soon joined by 
Tim, who had discarded his sailor’s disguise, and was in what 
is called a shabby genteel sort of dress. After the first renew- 
ed greeting, I requested Tim to let me know what had occurred 
to him since our separation. 

“You cannot imagine, Japhet, what my feelings were when 
I found, by your note, that you had left me. I had perceived 
how unhappy you had been for a long while, and I was equally 
distressed, although I knew not the cause. I had no idea until 
I got your letter, that you had lost all your money ; and I felt 
it more unkind of you to leave me then, than if you had been 
comfortable and independent. As for looking after you, that I 
kqew would be useless ; and I immediately went to Mr. Mas- 
terton, to take his advice as to how I should proceed. Mr. 
Masterton had received your letter, and appeared to be very 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


335 


much annoyed. Very foolish boy/ said he ; ‘but there is no- 
thing that can be done now. He is mad, and that is all that 
can be said in his excuse. You must do as he tells you, I sup- 
pose, and try the best for yourself. I will help you in any way 
that I can, my poor fellow,’ said he, ‘ so don’t cry.’ I went 
back to the house and collected together your papers, which I 
sealed up. I knew that the house was to be given up in a few 
days. I sold ,the furniture, and made the best I could of the 
remainder of your wardrobe, and other things of value that you 
had left ; indeed, every thing, with the exception of tlie dress- 
ing case and pistols, which had belonged to Major Carbonnell, 
and I thought you might perhaps some day like to have them.” 

“ How very kind of you, Timothy, to think of me in that 
way ! I shall indeed be glad ; but no — what have I to do 
with pistols or silver dressing-cases now? I must not have 
them, but still I thank you all the same.” 

“ The furniture and every thing else fetched J£430, after all 
expenses were paid.” 

“ I am glad of it, Timothy, for your sake ; but I am sorry, 
judging by your present plight, that it appears to have done 
you but little good.” 

“ Because I did not make use of it, Japhet. What could I 
.do with all that money ? I took it to Mr. Master ton, with all 
your papers, and the dressing-case and pistols : — he has it now 
ready for you when you ask for it. He was very kind to me, 
and offered to do any thing for me ; but I resolved to go in 
search of you. I had more money in my pocket when you went 
away than I generally have, and with the surplus of what you 
left for the bills, I had twelve or fourteen pounds. So I wished 
Mr. Masterton good-by, and have ever since been on my adven- 
tures in search of my master.” 

“Not master, Timothy, say rather of your friend.” 

“Well, of both if you please, Japhet ; and ''mry pretty ad- 
ventures I have had, I assure you, and some ’?ery hair-breadth 
escapes.” 

“ I think, when we compare notes, mine will be found most 


336 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


eventful, Timothy ; but we can talk of them, and compare 
notes another time. At present, whom do you think I am 
residing with V’ 

“A Quaker, I presume.” 

“ You have guessed right so far ; but who do you think that 
Quaker is ?” 

“ There I’m at fault.” 

'‘Mr. Cophagus.” 

At this intelligence Timothy gave a leap in the air, turned 
round on his heel, and tumbled on the grass in a fit of immoder- 
ate laughter. 

“ Cophagus I — a Quaker I” cried he at last. “ 0 ! I long to 
gee him. Snuffle, snuffle — broad brims — wide skirts — and so on. 
Capital.” 

“ It is very true, Timothy, but you must not mock at the 
persuasion.” 

“I did not intend it, Japhet, but there is something to me so 
ridiculous in the idea. But,” continued Timothy, “ is it not still 
stranger, that, after having separated so many years, we should 
all meet again — and that I should find Mr. Cophagus — an 
apothecary’s shop — ^you dispensing medicines — and I — as I hope 
to be — carrying them about as I did before. Well, I will row 
in the same boat, and I will be a Quaker as well as you both.’’ 

“ Well, we will now return, and I will take you to Mr 
Cophagus, who will, I am sure, be glad to see you.” 

“First, Japhet, let me have some Quaker’s clothes — I should 
prefer it.” 

“ You shall have a suit of mine, Timothy, since you wish it ; 
but recollect it is not at all necessary, nor indeed will it be per- 
mitted that you enter into the sect without preparatory exam- 
ination as to your fitness for admission.” 

I then went to the shop, and sending out the assistant, 
walked home and took out a worn suit of clothes, with which I 
hastened to Timothy. He put them on in the shop, and then ’ 
walking behind the counter, said, “ This is my place, and hero 
[ shall remain as long as you do.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 387 

“ I hope SO, Timothy : as for the one who is with me at pre- 
sent, I can easily procure him other employment ; and he will 
not be sorry to go, for he is a married man, and does not like 
the confinement.’^ 

“ I have some money,” said Timothy, taking out of his old 
clothes a dirty rag, and producing nearly twenty pounds. “ I 
am well off, you see.” 

“ You are, indeed,” replied I. 

“ Yes, there is nothing like being a sailor with one leg, sing- 
ing ballads. Do you know, Japhet, that sometimes I have 
taken more than a pound a day since I have shammed the 
sailor ?” 

“Not very honestly, Tim.” 

“ Perhaps not, Japhet, but it is very strange, and yet very 
true, that when honest I can make nothing, and when deceived 
I have done very well.” 


CHAPTER LXVII. 

TIMOTHY COMMENCES HIS NARRATIVE OF HIS SEARCH AFTER JAPHET. 

I COULD not help calling to mind that the same consequences as 
Timothy related in the last chapter had occurred to me during 
my eventful career ; but I had long considered . that there was 
no excuse for dishonesty, and that, in the end, it would only 
lead to exposure and disgrace. I went home early in the even- 
ing to introduce Timothy to Mr. Cophagus, who received him 
with great kindness, and agreed immediately that he ought to 
be with me in the shop. Timothy paid his respects to the 
ladies, and then went down with Ephraim, who took him under 
his protection. In a few days he was as established with us as 
if he had been living with us for months. I had some trouble, 
at first, in checking his vivacity and turn for ridicule ; but that 
was gradually effected, and I found him not only a great 

1.5 


838 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


ncquisition, but, as he always was, a cheerful and affectionato 
companion. I had, during the first days of our meeting, re- 
counted my adventures, and made many inquiries of Timothy 
relative to my few friends. He told me that from Mr. Master- 
ton he had learnt that Lady de Clare and Fleta had called 
upon him very much afflicted with the contents of my letter — 
that Lord Windermear also had been very much vexed and 
annoyed — that Mr. Masterton had advised him to obtain an- 
other situation as a 'valet, which he had refused, and, at the 
same time, told him his intention of searching for me. He had 
promised Mr. Masterton to let him know if he found me, and 
then bade him farewell. 

“I used to lie in bed, Japhet,^ continued Timothy, “and 
think upon the best method of proceeding. At last, I agreed 
to myself, that to look for you as you lo’oked after your father 
would be a wild-goose chase, and that my money would soon 
be gone ; so I reflected whether I might not take up some 
roving trade which would support me, and, at the same time, 
enable me to proceed from place to place. What do you 
think was my first speculation ? Why, I saw a man with a 
dog harnessed in a little cart, crying dog’s meat and cat’s m§at, 
and I said to myself, ‘Now there’s the very thing — there’s a 
profession — I can travel and earn my livelihood.” I entered 
into conversation with him, as he stopped at a low public-house, 
treating him to a pot of beer ; and having gained all I wanted 
as to the mysteries of the profession', I called for another pot^ 
and proposed that I should purchase his whole concern, down to 
his knife and apron. The fellow agreed, and after a good deal 
of bargaining, I paid him three guineas for the set out or set up, 
which you please. He asked me whether I meant to hawk in 
London or not, and I told him no, that I should travel the 
country. He' advised the western road, as there were more 
populous towns in it. Well, we had another pot to clench the 
bargain, and I paid down the money and took possession,, quite 
delighted wdth my new occupation. A^vay I went to Brent- 
ford, selling a bit here and there by the way, and at last 


JAPHET, IN SEAIICH OF A FATHER. 


339 


arrived at the very bench where we had sat down together and 
eaten our meal.” 

“ It is strange that I did the same, and a very unlucky bench 
it proved to me.” 

“So it did to me, as you shall hear. 1 had taken up my 
quarters at 'that inn, and for three days had done very well in 
Brentford. On the third evening I had just -come back, it 
was nearly dusk, and I took my seat on the bench, thinking of 
you. My dog, rather tired, was lying down before the cart 
when all of a sudden I heard a sharp whistle. The dog sprang 
on his legs immediately, and ran off several yards before I could 
prevent him. The whistle was repeated, and away went the 
' dog and cart like lightning. I ran as fast as I could, but could 
not overtake him ; and I perceived that his old master was 
running ahead of the dog as hard as he could, and this was the 
reason why the dog was off. Still I should, I think, have 
overtaken him ; but an old woman coming out of a door with 
a saucepan to pour the hot water into the gutter, I knocked 
her down and tumbled right over her into a cellar without 
steps. There I was ; and before I could climb out again, man, 
dog, cart, cat’s meat and dog’s meat, had all vanished, and I 
have never seen them since. The rascal got clear off, and I 
was a bankrupt. So much for my first set up in business.” 

“You forgot to purchase the good-will when you made your 
bargain, Timothy, for the stock in trade.” 

“ Very true, Japhet. However, after receiving a veiy fair 
share of abuse from the old woman, and a plaster of hot greens 
in my face — for she went supperless to bed, rather than not 
have her revenge — I walked back to the inn, and sat down in 
the tap. The two men next to me were hawkers ; one carried 
a large pack of dimities and calicoes, and the other a box full 
of combs, needles, tapes, scissors, knives, and mock-gold trinkets. 
I entered into conversation with them, and, as I again stood 
treat, I soon was very intimate. They told me what their pro- 
fits were, and how they contrived to get on, and I thought, 
for a rambling life, it was by no means an unpleasant one; so 


340 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


having obtained all the information I required, I went back tc 
town, took out a hawker’s hcence, for which I paid two guineas, 
and purchasing at a shop, to which they gave me a direction, 
a pretty fair quantity of articles in the tape and scissors line, 
oif I set once more on my travels. I took the north road this 
time, and picked up a very comfortable subsistence, selling my 
goods for a fe-w halfpence here, and a few halfpence there, at 
the cottages as I passed by ; but I soon found out, that with- 
out a newspaper I was not a confirmed hawker, and the more 
radical the newspaper the better. A newspaper will pay half 
the expenses of a hawker, if he can read. At every house, 
particularly every small hedge alehouse, he is received, and 
placed in the best corner of the chimney, and has his board 
and lodging, with the exception of what he drinks, gratis, if he 
will pull out the newspaper and read it to those around him who 
cannot read, particularly if he can explain what is unintelligible. 
Now I became a great politician, and, moreover, a great 
radical, for such were the politics of all the lower classes. I 
lived well, slept well, and sold my wares very fast. I did not 
take more than three shillings in the day, yet, as two out of 
the three were clear profit, I did pretty well. However, a little 
accident happened which obliged me to change my profession, 
or at least the nature of the articles which I dealt in.” 

“ What was that ?” 

“ A mere trifle. I had arrived late at a small ale-house, had 
put up my pack, which was in a painted deal box, on the table 
in the tap room, and was very busy, after reading a paragraph 
in the newspaper, making a fine speech, which I always found 
was received with great applause, and many shakes of the hand, 
as a prime good fellow — a speech about community of rights, 
agrarian division, and the propriety of an equal distribution of 
property, proving that, as we were all born alike, no one had a 
right to have more property than his neighbour. The people 
had all gathered round me, applauding violently, when I thought 
I might as well look after my pack, which had' been for some 
time hidden from my sight by the crowd, when, to my mortifi- 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


341 


cation, I found out that my earnest assertions on the propriety 
of community of property had had such an influence upon some 
of my listeners, that they had walked off with my pack and itS 
contents. Unfortunately, I had deposited in my boxes all mj 
money, considering it safer there than in my pockets, and had 
nothing left but about seventeen shillings in silver, which I had ♦ 
received within the last three days. Every one was very sorry, 
but no one knew any thing about it ; and when I challenged 
the landlord as answerable, he called me a radical blackguard, 
and turned me out of the door.” 

“ If you had looked a little more after your own property, 
and interfered less with that of other people, you would have 
done better, Tim,” observed I, laughing. 

“ Very true ; but, at all events, I have never been a radical 
since,” replied Tim. “ But to go on. I walked off to the 
nearest town, and I commenced in a more humble way. I pur- 
chased a basket, and then, with the remainder of my money, 1 
bought the commonest crockery ware, such as basins, jugs, 
mugs, and putting them on my head, off I went again upon my 
new speculation. I wandered about with my crockery, but it 
was hard work. I could not reap the profits which I did as a 
hawker and pedlar. I averaged, however, from seven to nine 
shillings a week, and that was about sufficient for my support. 

I went down into as many kitchens as would have sufficed 
to have found a dozen mothers, supposing mine to be a cook ; 
but I did not see any one who was at all like me. Sometimes 
a cook replaced a basin she had broken, by giving me as much 
meat as had cost her mistress five shillings, and thus avoided a 
scolding, for an article which was worth only twopence. At 
other times, a cottager would give me a lodging, and would con- 
sider himself rewarded with a mug that only cost me one penny. 

I was more than three months employed carrying crockery in 
every direction, and never, during the whole time, broke one 
article, until one day, as I passed through Eton, there was 
a regular smash of the whole concern.” 

Indeed, how was that ?” 


342 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ I met about a dozen of the Eton boys, and they proposed 
a cockshy, as they called it ; that is, I was to place my articles 
6n the top of a post, and they were to throw stones at them at 
a certain distance, paying me a certain sum for each throw. 
Well, this I thought a very good bargain, so I put up a mug 
# (worth one penny) at one penny a throw. It was knocked 
ilown at the second shot, so it was just as well to put the full 
price upon them at once, they were such remarkable good 
aimers at any thing. Each boy had a stick, upon which I 
notched off -their throws, and how much they would have to 
pay when all was over. One article after another was put on 
the post until my basket was empty, and then I wanted to set- 
tle with them ; but as soon as I talked about that, they all 
burst out into a loud laugh, and took to their heels. I chased 
them, but one might as well have chased eels. If I got hold of 
one, the others pulled me behind until he escaped, and at last 
they were all off, and I had nothing left.” 

“ Not your basket ?” 

No, not even that ; for while I was busy after some that 
ran one way, the others kicked my basket before them, like a 
foot-ball, until it was fairly out of sight. I had only eight-pence 
in my pocket, so you perceive Japhet how I was going dowm in 
the world.” 

“You were indeed, Tim.” 


CHAPTER LXYIII. 

TIMOTHY FINISHES HIS NARRATIVE. 

“Well, I walked away, cursing all the Eton boys and all their 
tutors, who did not teach them honesty as well as Latin and 
Greek, and put up at a very humble sort of abode, where they 
sold small beer, and gave beds at two-pence per night, and 1 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


343 


may add, with plenty of fleas in the bargain. There I fell in 
with some ballad singers and mumpers, who were making very 
merry, and who asked me what was the matter. I told them 
how I had been treated, and they laughed at me, but gave me 
some supper, so I forgave them. An old man, who governed 
the party, then asked me whether I had any money. I pro- 
duced my enormous capital of eight-pence. ‘ Quite enough, if 
you are clever,’ said he ; ‘ quite enough— many a man with half 
that sum has ended in rolling in his carriage. A man with 
thousands has only the advance of you a few years. You will 
pay for your lodging and then spend this six-pence in matches, 
and hawk them about the town. If you are lucky, it will be a 
shilling by to-morrow night. Besides, you go down into areas, 
and sometimes enter a kitchen, when the cook is above stairs. 
There are plenty of things to be picked up.’ * But I am not dis- 
honest,’ sa*id I. ‘Well then, every man to his liking ; only if 
you were, you would ride in your own coach the sooner.’ ‘ And 
suppose I should lose all this, or none would buy my matches, 
what then ?’ replied I ; ‘ I shall starve.’ ‘‘Starve — no, no — no 
one starves in this country ; all you have to do is to get into 
gaol — committed for a month — you will live better perhaps than 
you ever did before. I have been in every gaol in England, and 
I know the good ones, for even in gaols there is a great differ- 
ence. Now the one in this town is one of the best in all Eng- 
land, and I patronises it during the winter.’ I was much 
amused with the discourse of this mumper, who appeared to be 
one of the merriest old vagabonds in England. I took his ad- 
vice, bought six pennyworth of matches, and commenced my 
new vagrant speculation. 

“The first day I picked up three-pence, for one quarter of 
my stock, and returned to the same place where I had slept tlie 
night before, but the fraternity had quitted on an expedition. I 
spent my two-pence in bread and cheese, and paid one penny for 
my lodging, and again I started the next morning, but I was 
very unsuccessful ; nobody appeared to want matches that day ; 
and after walking from seven o’clock in the morning, to past 


S44 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


seven in the evening, without selling one farthiug^s worth, I sal 
clown at the porch of a chapel, quite tired and worn out. At 
last I fell asleep, and how do you think I was awoke ? by 
a strong sense of suffocation, and up I sprang, coughing, and 
nearly choked, surrounded with smoke. Some mischievous boys 
perceiving that I was fast asleep, had set fire to my matches, as 
I held them in my hand between my legs, and I did not wake 
until ray fingers were severely burnt. There was an end of my 
speculation in matches, because there was an end of all my 
capital.” 

“ My poor Timothy, I really feel for you.” 

“ Not at all, my dear Japhet ; I never, in all my distress, 
v/as sentenced to execution — my miseries were trifles, to be 
lauglied at. However, I felt very miserable at the time, and 
walked off, thinking about the propriety of getting into gaol as 
soon as I could, for the beggar had strongly recommended it. I 
was at the outskirts of the town, when I perceived two men 
tussling with one another, and I walked towards them. ‘ I says,’ 
says one, who appeared to' be a constable, ‘ you must come along 
with I. Don’t you see that ere board ? All wagrants shall be 
taken up, and dealt with according to la.^ ‘Now may the devil 
hold you in his claws, you old psalm-singing thief — an’t I a 
sailor — and an’t I a wagrant by profession, and all according to 
law ?’ ‘ That won’t do,’ says the other ; ‘ I commands you in 

the king’s name, to let me take you to prison, and I commands 
you also, young man,’ says he — for I had walked up to them — 
‘ I commands you, as a lawful subject, to assist me.’ ‘ What will 
you give the poor fellow for his trouble V said the sailor. ‘ It’s 
his duty, as a lawful subject, and I’ll give him nothing; but I’ll 
put him in prison if he don’t.’ ‘ Then, you old Khinoceros, I’ll 
give him five shillings if he’ll help me, and so now he may take 
his choice.’ At all events, thought I, this will turn out lucky 
one way or the other ; but I will support the man who is 
most generous ; so I went up to the constable, who was a burly 
sort of a fellow, and tripped up his heels, and down he came on 
the back of his head. You know my old trick, Japhet ?” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A. FATHER. 


345 


“ Yes ; I never knew you fail at that.” 

“ ‘ Well,’ the sailor says to me, ‘ I’ve a notion you’ve 
damaged his upper works, so let us start olf, and clap on all 
sail for the next town. I know where to drop an anchor. 
Come along with me, and as long as I’ve a shot in the locker, 
d — n me if I won’t share it with one who has proved a friend 
in need.’ The constable did not come to his senses ; he was 
very much stunned, but we loosened his neckcloth, and left him 
there, and started off as fast as we could. My new companion, 
who had a wooden leg, stopped by a gate, and clambered over 
it. ‘ We must lose no time,’ said he ; ‘ and I may just as well 
have the benefit of both legs.’ So saying, he took off his 
wooden stump, and let down his real leg, which was fixed up 
just as you saw mine. I made no comments ; but off we set, 
and at a good round pace gained a village about five miles dis- 
tant. ‘ Here we will put up for the night ; but they will look 
for us to-morrow at daylight, or a little after, therefore we 
must be starting early. I know the law beggars well ; they 
won’t turn out afore sunrise.’ He stopped at a paltry alehouse, 
where we were admitted, and soon were busy with a much bet- 
ter supper than I had ever imagined they could have produced ; 
but my new friend ordered right and left, with a tone of 
authority, and every body in the house appeared at his beck 
and command. After a couple of glasses of grog, we retired 
to our beds. 

“ The next morning we started before break of day, on our 
road to another town, where my companion said the constables 
would never take the trouble to come after him. On our way 
he questioned me as to my mode of gettmg a livelihood, and I 
narrated how unfortunate I had been. ‘ One good turn 
deserves another,’ replied the sailor ; ‘ and now I’ll set you up 
in trade. Can you sing ? Have you any thing of a voice ?’ 

‘ I can’t say that I have,’ replied I. ‘ I don’t mean whether 
you can sing in tune, or have a good voice, that’s no conse- 
quence ; all I wan’t to know is, have you a good loud one ?'. 
‘ Loud erough, if that’s all.’ ‘That’s all that’s requisite ; so 

15 * 


340 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


long as you can make yourself heard — ^you may then howl like 
a jackall, or bellow like a mad buffalo, no matter which — as 
many pay us for to get rid of us, as out of charity ; and so 
long as the money comes, what’s the odds ? Why, I once knew 
an old chap, who could only play one tune on the clarionet, 
and that tune out of all tune, who made his fortune m six or 
seven streets, for every one gave him money, and told him to 
go away. When he found out that, he came every morning as 
regular as clock-work. Now there was one of the streets 
which w'as chiefly occupied by inusic sellers and Italian singers 
— for them foreigners al\vays herd together — and this tune, 
“ which the old cow died of,” as the saying is, used to be their 
horror, and out came the halfpence to send him away. There 
was a sort of club also in that street, of larking sort of young 
men ; and when they perceived that the others gave the old 
man money to get rid of his squeaking, they sent him out 
money, with orders to stay and play to them, so then the 
others sent out more for him to go away, and between the tw'o, 
the old fellow brought home more money than all the cadgers 
and mumpers in the district. Now if you have a loud voice, I 
can provide you with all the rest.’ — ‘ Do you gain your liveli- 
hood by that ?’ — ‘ To be sure I do ; and I can tell you, that oi 
all the trades going, there is hone equal to it. You see, my 
hearty, I have been on board of a man-of-war — not that I’m a 
sailor, or was ever bred to the sea — but I was shipped as a 
landsman, and did duty in the w’aist and afterguard. I kno^v 
little or nothing of my duty as a seaman, nor was it required in 
the station I was in, so I never learnt, although I was four 
years on board ; all I learnt was the lingo and slang — and that 
you must contrive to learn from me. I bolted, and made my 
way good to Lunnun, but I should soon have been -picked up 
and put on board the Tender again, if I hadn’t got this wooden 
stump made, which I now carry in my hand. I had plenty of 
songs, and I commenced my profession, and a real good un it 
js, I can tell you. Why, do you know, that a’ter a good vic- 
tory, I have sometimes picked up as much as two pounds a 


JAPHETj.iN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 34 T 

day for weeks running ; as it is, I averages from fifteen skil- 
lings to a pound. Now, as you helped me away from that 
land shark, who would soon have found out that I had two 
legs, and have put me into limbo as an impostor, I will teach 
you to arn your livelihood after my fashion. You shall work 
with me until you are fit to start alone, and then there^s plenty 
of room in England for both of us ; but mind, never tell any 
one what you pick up, or every mumper in the island will put 
on a suit of sailor’s clothes, and the thing will be blown upon.’ 
Of course, this wms too good an offer to be rejected, and I joy- 
fully acceded. At first, I worked with him as having only one 
arm, the other being tied down to my side, and my jacket 
sleeve hanging loose and empty, and we roared away right and 
left, so as to bring dorm a shower of coppers wherever we 
went. In about three weeks my friend thought I was able to 
start by myself ; and giving me half of the ballads, and five 
shillings to start with, I shook hands and parted with, next to 
you, the best friend that I certainly ever had. Ever since I 
have been crossing the country in every direction, with plenty 
of money in my pocket, and always with one eye looking sharp 
out for you. My beautiful voice fortunately attracted your 
attention, and here I am, and at an end of my history ; but if 
ever I am away from you, and in distress again, depend upon 
it I shall take to my wooden leg and ballads for my sup- 
port.” 

Such were the adventures of Timothy, who was metamor- 
phosed into a precise Quaker. “ I do not like the idea of your 
taking up a system of deceit, Timothy. It may so happen — for 
who knows what may occur ? — that you may again be thrown 
upon your own resources. Now would it not be better that 
you should obtain a more intimate knowledge of the profession 
which we are now in, which is liberal and equally profitable ? 
By attention and study you will be able to dispense medicines 
and make up prescriptions as well as myself, and who knows 
but that some day you may be the owner of a shop liks 
this V' 


848 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A .FATHER. 


“Yerilj, verily, thy words do savour of much wisdom/* 
replied Tim, in a grave voice ; “ and I will even so follow thy 
advice.” 


CHAPTER LXIX. 

I AM UNSETTLED BY UNEXPECTED INTELLIGENCE, AND AGAIN YEARN 
AFTER THE WORLD OF FASHION. 

I KNEW that he was mocking me in this reply, but I paid no 
attention -to that ; I was satisfied that he consented. I now 
made him assist me, and under my directions he m^ide up the 
prescriptions.. I explained to him the nature of every medicine, 
and I made him read many books of physic and surgery. In 
short, after two or three months, I could trust to Timothy as 
well as if I were in the shop myself ; and having an errand-boy, 
I had much more leisure, and I left him in charge after dinner. 
The business prospered, and I was laying up money. My 
leisure time, I hardly need say, was spent with Mr. Cophagus 
and his family, and my attachment; to Susannah Temple 
increased every day. Indeed, both Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus 
considered that it was to be a match, and often joked with me 
when Susannah was not present. With respect to Susannah, I 
could not perceive that I was farther advanced in her affections 
than after I had known her two months. She was always kind 
and considerate, evidently interested in my welfare, always 
checking in me anything like levity — frank and confiding in her 
opinions — and charitable to all, as I thought, except to me. 
Rut I made no advance that I could perceive. The fact was, 
that I dared not speak to her as I mighfhave done to another 
who was not so perfect. And yet she smiled, as I thought, 
more kindly when I returned than at other times, and never 
appeared to be tired of my company. If I did sometimes men • 
tion the marriage of another, or attentions paid which would, 
in all probability, end in marriage, it would create no confusion 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


349 


or blushing on her part ; she would talk over that subject as 
composedly as any other. I was puzzled ; and I had been a 
year and nine months constantly in her company, and had never 
dared to tell her that I loved her. But one day Mr. Cophagus 
brought up the subject when we were alone. lie commenced 
by stating how happy he had been as a married man ; that he 
had given up all hopes of a family, and that he should like to 
see Susannah Temple, his sister-in-law, well married, that he 
might leave his property to her children ; and then he put the 
very pertinent question — “Japhet — verily ^ — thou hast done 
well — good business — money coming in fast — settle, Japhet — 
marry — have children — and so on. Susannah — ^nice girl — good 
wife — pop question — all right — sly puss — won’t say no — um — 
what d’ye say ? — and so on.” I replied that I was very much 
attached to Susannah ; but that I was afraid that the attach- 
ment w^as not mutual, and therefore hesitated to propose. 
Cophagus then said that he would make his wife sound his 
sister, and let me know the result. 

This was in the morning, just before I was about to walk 
over to the shop, and I left the house in a state of anxiety and 
suspense. When I arrired at the shop, I found Tim there as 
usual ; but the colour in his face was heightened as he said to 
me, “Read this, Japhet,” and handed to me the “Reading 
Mercury.” I read an advertisement as follows : — 

“ If Japhet Newland, who was left at the Foundling Asy 
lum, and was afterwards for some time in London, will call a 
No. 16 Throgmorton Court, Minories, he will hear of something 
very much to his advantage, and will discover that of which he 
has been so long in search. Should this reach his eye, he is 
requested to write immediately to the above address, with full 
particulars of his situation. Should any one who reads this be 
able to give any information relative to the said J. N., he will 
be liberally rewarded.” , 

I sank down on the chair. “Merciful Heaven I this can ba 


350 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


no mistake — ‘ lie will discover the object of his search.’ Timo* 
thy, my dear Timothy, I have at last found out my father.” • 

“So I should imagine, my dear Japhet,” replied Timothy, 
“ and I trust it will not prove a disappointment.” 

“ They never will be so cruel, Timothy,” replied I, 

“ But still it is evident that Mr. Masterton is concerned in 
it,” observed Timothy. 

“ Why so ?” inquired I. 

“ How otherwise should it appear in the Keadin-g newspaper ? 
He must have examined the post-mark of my letter.” 

To explain this, I must remind the reader that Timothy had 
promised to write to Mr. Masterton when he found me ; and he 
requested my permission shortly after we had met again. I 
consented to his keeping his word, but restricted him to saying 
any more than “ that he had found me, and that I was well 
and happy.” There was no address in the letter as a clue to 
Mr. Masterton as to where I might be, and it could only have 
been from the post-mark that he could have formed any idea. 
Timothy’s surmise was therefore very probable ; but I would 
not believe that Mr. Masterton would consent to the insertion 
of that portion of the advertisement, if there was no foundation 
for it. 

“What will you do, Japh-et?” 

“ Do,” replied I, recovering from my reverie, for the informa- 
tion had again roused up all my dormant feelings — “Do,” 
replied I, “ why, I shall set off for town this very morning.” 

“In that dress, Japhet ?” 

“ I suppose I must,” replied I, “ for I have no time to procure 
another ;” and all my former ideas of fashion and appearance 
w^ere roused, and in full activity — my pride recovered its ascen- 
dency. 

“Well,” replied Timothy, “I hope you will find your father 
all that you could wish.” 

“ I’m sure of it, Tim — I’m sure of it,” replied I ; “ yon 
must run and take a place in the first coach.” 

“But you are not' going without seeing Mr. and Mrs 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


351 


Cophagus, and — Miss Temple,” continued Tim, laying an em- 
phasis upon the latter name. 

“ Of course not,” replied I, colouring deeply. “ I will go at 
once. Give me the newspaper, Tim.” 

I took the newspaper, and hastened to the house of Mr. 
Cophagus. I found them all three sitting in the breakfast par- 
lour, Mr. Cophagus, as usual, reading, with his spectacles on 
his nose, and the ladies at work. “What is the matter, friend 
Japhet?” exclaimed Mr. Cophagus, as I burst into the room, 
ray countenance lighted up with excitement. “ licad that, sir,” 
said I to Mr. Cophagus. Mr. Cophagus read it. “ Hum — bad 
news — lose Japhet — man of fashion — and so on,” said Copha- 
gus, pointing out the paragraph to his wife, as he handed over 
the paper. 

In the mean time I watched the countenance of Susannah — 
a slight emotion, but instantly checked, was visible at Mr. 
Cophagus’s remark. She then remained quiet until her sister, 
who had read the paragraph, handed the paper to her. “ I 
give thee joy, Japhet, at the prospect of finding out thy 
parent,” said Mrs. Cophagus. “I trust thou wilt find him one 
who is to be esteemed as a man. When departest thou ?” 

“ Immediately,” replied I. 

“ I cannot blame thee — the ties of nature are ever powerful. 
I trust that thou wdlt write to us, and that we soon shall sec 
thee return.” 

“Yes, yes,” said Cophagus, “see father— shake hands — 
come back — 'heh ! — settle here — and so on.” 

“ I shall not be altogether my own master, perhaps,” observed 
I. “If my father desires that I remain with him, must not I 
obey ? But I know nothing at present. You shall hear from 

me. Timothy can take my place in the ” I could not bear 

the idea of the word shop, and I stopped. Susannah, for the 
first time, looked me earnestly in the face, but she said nothing. 
Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, who probably had been talking ovei 
the subject of our conversation, and thought this a*' good oppor 
tunity to allow me to have an edciircissmcnt with Susannih 


352 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


left the room, saying they would look after my portmanteau 
and linen. “Susannah,” said I, “you do not appear to rejoice 
with me.” 

“Japhet Newland, I will rejoice at everything that may 
tend to thy happiness, believe me ; but I do not feel assured 
but that this trial may prove too great, and that thou mayst 
fall away. Indeed, I perceive even now that thou art excited 
with new ideas, and visions of pride.” 

“ If I am wrong, forgive me. Susannah, you must know 
that the whole object of my existence has been to find my 
father ; and now that I have every reason to suppose that my 
wish is obtained, can you be surprised, or can you blame me, 
that I long to be pressed in his arms ?” 

“Nay, Japhet, for that filial feeling I do commend thee ; 
but ask thy own heart, is that the only feeling which now 
exciteth thee ? Dost thou not expect to find thy father one 
high in rank and power ? Dost thou not anticipate to join once 
more the world which thou hast quitted, yet still hast sighed 
for ? Dost thou not already feel contempt for thy honest pro- 
fession : — nay, more, dost thou not only long to cast off the 
plain attire, and not only the attire, but the sect which in 
thy adversity thou didst embrace the tenets of ? Ask thy own 
heart, and reply if thou wilt, but I press thee not so to do ; for 
the truth would be painful, and a lie, thou knowest, I do utterly 
abhor.” 

I felt that Susannah spoke the truth, and I would not deny 
it. I sat down by her. “ Susannah,” said I, “it is not very 
easy to change at once. I have mixed for years in the world, 
with you I have not yet lived two. I will not deny but that 
the feelings you have expressed have risen in my heart, but I 
will try to repress them ; at least for your sake, Susannah, I 
would try to repress, them, for I value your opinion more than 
that of the whole world. You have the power to do with mo 
as you please : — will you exert that power ?” 

“ Japhet,” replied Susannah^ “ the faith which is not built 
upon a more solid foundation than to win the favour of an err* 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


353 


ing being like myself is but weak ; that power over thee which 
thou expectedst will fix thee in the right path may soon be lost, 
and what is then to direct thee ? If no purer motives than 
earthly affection are to be thy stay, most surely thou wilt fall. 
But no more of this ; thou hast a duty to perform, which is to 
go to thy earthly father, and seek his blessing. Nay, more, 1 
would that thou shouldst once more enter into the world ; there 
thou mayst decide. Shouldst thou return to us, thy friends 
will rejoice, and not one of them will be more joyful than 
Susannah Temple. Fare thee well, Japhet, mayst thou prove 
superior to temptation. I will pray for thee — earnestly will I 
pray for thee, Japhet,” continued Susannah, with a qu' Bering 
of her lips and broken voice, and she left the room 


•CHAPTER LXX. 

I RETURN TO LONDON, AND MEET WITH MR. MASTERTON. 

I WENT up stairs, and found that all was ready, and 1 took 
leave of Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, both of whom expressed their 
hopes that I would not leave them for ever. “ Oh, no,” replied 
r, “I should indeed be base if I did.” I left them, and with 
Ephraim following with my portmanteau, I quitted the house. 
I had gone about twenty yards, when I recollected that I had 
left on the table the newspaper with the advertisement contain- 
ing the direction whom to apply to, and desiring Ephraim to 
proceed, I returned. When I entered the parlour, Susannah 
Temple was resting her face in her hands and weeping. The 
opening of the door made her start up ; she perceived that it 
was I, and she turned away. “ I beg your pardon, I left the 
newspaper,” said I, stammering. I was about to throw myself 
at her feet, declare my sincere affection, and give up all idea of 
finding my father until we were married, when she, without 


354 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

saying a word, passed quickly by me, and hastened out of the 
room, “ She loves me, then,” thought I ; “ thank God : — I 
will-not go yet, I will speak to her first.” I sat down, quite 
overpowered with contending feelings. The paper was in my 
hand, the paragraph was again read ; I thought but of my 
father, and I left the house. 

In half an hour I had shaken hands with Timothy and quitted 
the town of Reading. How I arrived in London, that is to 
say, what passed, or what we passed, I know not ; my mind 
was in such a state of excitement. I hardly know how to ex- 
press the state I was in. It was a sort of mental whirling 
which blinded me — round and round — from my father and the 
expected meeting, then to Susannah, my departure and her 
tears — castle building of every description. After the coach 
stopped, there I remained fixed on the top of it, not aware 
that we were in London, until the coachman asked me whether 
the spirit did not move me to get down. I recollected myself, 
and calling a hackney-coach, gave orders^ to be driven to the 
Piazza, Covent Garden. 

“ Piazza, Cov.ent Garden,” said the waterman ; “ why that 
han’t an ’otel for the like o’ you, master. They’ll torment you 
to death, them young chaps.” 

I had forgotten that I was dressed as a Quaker. “Tell the 
coachman to stop at the first cloth warehouse where they have 
ready-made cloaks,” said I. The man did so ; I went out and 
purchased a roquelaure, which enveloped my whole person. I 
then stopped at a hatter’s, and purchased a hat according to 
the mode. “Now drive to the Piazza,” said I, entering the 
coach. I know not why, but I was resolved to go to that hotel. 
It was the one I had stayed at when I first arrived in London, 
and I wished to see it again. When the hackney coach stopped 
t asked the waiter who came out whether he had apartments, 
and answering me in the affirmative, I followed him, and was 
shown into the same rooms I had previously occupied. “ These 
will do,” said I, “ now let me have something to eat, and send 
for a good tailor.” The waiter ofTered to remove my cloak, but 


JAPHET, IN SEAECII OF A FATHER. 


355 


I refused, saying that I was cold. He left the room, and I 
thi»ew myself on the sofa, running over all the scenes which had 
passed in that room with Carbonnell, Harcourt, and others. 
My thoughts were broken in upon by the arrival of the tailor 
“ Stop a moment,” said I, “ and let him come in when I ring.’- 
So ashamed was I of my Quaker’s dress, that I threw off my coat 
and waistcoat, and put on my cloak again before I rang the bell 

for the tailor to come up. “ Mr. ,” said I, “ I must have 

a suit of clothes ready by to-morrow at ten o’clock.” 

“ Impossible, sir.” 

“ Impossible I” said I,’ “ and you pretend to be a fashionable 
tailor. Leave the room.” 

At this peremptory behaviour, the tailor imagined that I 
must be somebody. 

“ I will do my possible, sir, and if I can only get home in 
time to stop the workmen, I think it may be managed. Of 
course, you are aware of the expense of night work.” 

“ I am only aware of this, that if I give an order, I am 
accustomed to have it obeyed ; I learnt that from my poor 
friend. Major Carbonnell.” 

The tailor bowed low ; there was magic in the name^ 
although the man was dead. 

“ Here have I been masquerading in a Quaker’s dress, to 
please a puritanical young lady, and I am obliged to be off 
without any other clothes in my portmanteau ; so take my 
measure, and I expect the clothes at ten precisely.” So saying, 
I threw off my roquelaure, and desired him to proceed. This 
accomplished, the tradesman took his leave. Shortly after- 
wards, the door opened, and as I lay wrapped up in my cloak 
on the sofa, in came the landlord and two waiters, each bearing 
a dish of my supper. I wished them at the devil ; but I was 
still more surprised when the landlord made a low bow, saying, 
‘‘ Happy to see you returned, Mr. Newland ; you’ve been 
away some time — another grand tour, I presume.” 

“ Yes, Mr. , I have had a few adventures since I was 

last herq replied I, carelessly, “ but I am not very well. You 


356 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


may leave the supper, and if I feel inclined, I will take a little 
by and by — no one need wait.” 

The landlord and waiter bowed, and went out of the room. 
I turned the key of the door, put on my Quaker’s coat, and 
made a hearty supper, for I had had nothing since breakfast. 
When I had finished, I returned to the sofa, and I could not 
help analysing my own conduct. “ Alas,” thought I, “ Susan- 
nah, how rightly did you judge me ! I am not away from you 
more than eighteen hours, and here I am ashamed of the dress 
which I have so long worn, and been satisfied with, in your 
society. Truly did you say that I was full of pride, and would 
joyfully re-enter the world of vanity and vexation.” And I 
thought of Susannah, and her tears after my supposed depar- 
ture, and I felt angry and annoyed at my want of strength of 
mind and my worldly feelings. 

I retired early to bed, and did not wake until late the next 
morning. When I rang the bell, the chambermaid brought in 
my clothes from the tailor’s : I dressed, and I will not deny 
that I was pleased with the alteration. After breakfast I 
ordered a coach, and drove to No. 16 Throgmorton Court, 
Minories. The house was dirty outside, and the windows had 
not been cleaned apparently for years, and it was with some 
difficulty, when I went in, that I could decipher a tall, haggard- 
looking man seated at the desk. 

“ Your pleasure, sir ?” said he. 

“ Am I speaking to the principal ?” replied I. 

“ Yes, sir, my name is Chatfield.” 

“ I come to you, sir, relative to an advertisement which 
appeared in the papers. I refer to this,” continued I, putting 
the newspaper down on the desk, and pointing to the advertise- 
ment. 

“ Qli, yes, very true ; can you give us any information ?” 

“Yes, sir, I can, and the most satisfactory.” 

“ Then, sir, I am sorry that you have had so much trouble, 
but you must call at Lincoln’s Inn upon a lawyer of the name 
of Masterton : the whole affair is now in his hands ” 


JAPHET, IN. SEARCH OF A FATHER 351 

Can you, sir, inform me who is the party that is inquiring 
after this young man 

“ Why, yes ; it is a General De Beuyon, who has lately 
returned from the East Indies.” 

“ Good God I is it possible I” thought I ; “ how strange that 
my own wild fancy should have settled upon him as my father I” 

I hurried away ; threw myself into the hackney-coach, and 
desired the man to drive to Lincoln’s Inn. I hastened up to 
Mr. Masterton’s rooms : he was fortunately at home, although 
he stood at the table with his hat and his great coat on, ready 
to go out. 

“ My dear sir, have you forgotten me ?” said I, in a voice 
choked with emotion, taking his hand and squeezing it with 
rapture. 

“ By heavens, you are determined that I shall not forget you 
for some minutes, at least I” exclaimed he, wringing, his hand 
with pain. “ Who the devil are you ?” 

Mr. Masterton could not see without his spectacles, and my 
subdued voice he had not recognised. He pulled them out, as 
I made no reply, and fixing them across his nose — “ Hah ! why 
yes — ^it is Japhet, is it not ?” 

“ It is indeed, sir,” said I, again offering my hand, which he 
shook warmly. 

“Not quite so hard, my dear fellow, this time,” said the old 
lawyer ; “I acknowledge your vigour, and that is sufficient. I 
am very glad to see you, Japhet, I am indeed — you — you 
scamp — you ungrateful fellow. Sit down — sit down — first help 
me off with my great coat : I presume the advertisement has 
brought you into existence again. Well, it’s all true ; and 
you have at last found your father, or, rather, he has found 
you. And what’s more strange, you hit upon the right person ; 
that is strange — very strange indeed.” 

“Where is he, sir ?” interrupted I, “where is he — take me to 
him.” 

“No, rather be excused,” replied Mr Masterton, “for he liaa 
gone to Ireland ; so you must wait.” 


358 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.* 

“Wait, sir, oh no — I must follow him.'^ 

“ That will only do harm ; for he is rather a queer sort of 
an old gentleman, and although he acknowledges that he left 
you as Ja;phet and has searched for you, yet he is so afraid of 
somebody else’s brat being put upon him, that he insists upon 
most undeniable proofs. Now, we cannot trace you from the 
hospital unless we can find that fellow Cophagus, and we 
have made every search after him, and no one can tell where 
he is.” 

“ But I left him but yesterday morning, sir,” replied I. 

“ Good — ^very good ; we must send for him or go to him j 
besides, he has the packet entrusted to the care of Miss Mait- 
land, to whom he was executor, which proves the marriage of 
your father. Yery strange — very strange indeed, that you 
should have hit upon it as you did — almost supernatural. 
However, all right now, my dear boy, and I congratulate you. 
Your father is a very strange person : he has lived like a des- 
pot among slaves all his life, and will not be thwarted, I can 
tell you. If you say a word in contradiction he’ll disinherit 
you : — terrible old tiger, I must say. If it had not been for 
your sake, I should have done with him long ago. He seems 
to think the world ought to be at his feet. Depend upon it, 
Japhet, there is no hurry about seeing him ; and see him you 
shall not, until we have every proof of your identity ready to 
produce to him. I hope you have the bump of veneration 
strong, Japhet, and plenty of filial duty, or you will be kicked 
out of the house in a week. D — n me, if he didn’t call me an 
old thief of a lawyer.” 

“ Indeed, sir,” replied I, laughing ; “I must apologise to you 
for my father’s conduct.” 

“Never mind, Japhet ; I don’t care about a trifle ; but why 
don’t you ask after your friends ?” 

“I have longed so to do, sir,” replied I. “Lord "Winder* 
raear ” 

“ Is quite well, and will be most happy to see you.” 

“ Lady de Clare, and her daughter ” . 

4 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


359 


“ Lady de Clare lias entered into society again, and her 
daughter, as you call her — your Fleta, alias Cecilia de Clare — 
is the belle of the metropolis. But now, sir, as I have answered 
all your interrogatories, and satisfied you upon the most essen- 
tial points, will you favour me with a narrative of your adven- 
tures, (for adventures I am sure you must have had,) since you 
ran away from us all in that ungrateful manner V’ 

“Most certainly, sir, I will; and, as you say, 1 have had 
adventures. But it really will be a long story.” 

“ Then we’ll dine here, and pass the evening together — so 
that’s settled.” 


CHAPTER LXXI. 

IN WHICH I Ail LET INTO MORE PARTICULARS RELATIVE TO MY 
father’s HISTORY. 

I DISMISSED the coach, while Mr. Masterton gave his orders 
for dinner, and we then turned the key in the door to avoid 
intrusion, and I commenced. It was nearly dinner-time before 
T had finished my story. 

“ Well, you really appear to be born for getting into scrapes, 
and getting out of them again in a miraculous way,” observed 
Mr. Masterton. “ Your life would make a novel.” 

“ It woul5 indeed, sir,” replied I. “ I only hope, like all 
novels, it will wind up well.” 

“So do I; but dinner’s ready, Japhet, and after dinner we’ll 
talk the matter over again, for there are some points upon 
which I require some explanation.” 

“We sat down to dinner, and when we Imd finished, and 
tlie table, had been cleared, we drew to the fire, with our bottle 
of wine. Mr. Masterton stirred the fire, called for his slippers, 
and then crossing his legs over the fender, resumed the subject 

“Japhet, I consider it most fortunate that we have met 


360 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


previous to your introduction to your father. You have so far 
to congratulate yourself, that your family is undeniably good, 
there being, as you know, an Irish peerage in it; of which, how- 
ever, you have no chance, as the present earl has a numerous 
offspring. You are also fortunate as far as money is concerned, 
as I have every reason to believe that your father is a very rich 
man, and, of course, you are his only child; but I must now 
prepare you to meet with a very different person than perhaps 
the fond anticipations of youth may have led you to expect. 
Your father has no paternal feelings that I can discover; he has 
wealth, and he wishes to leave it — he has therefore sought you 
out. But he is despotic, violent, and absurd; the least oppo- 
sition to his will makes him furious, and I am sorry to add, 
that I am afraid that he is very mean. He suffered severely 
when young from poverty, and his own father was almost as 
authoritative and unforgiving as himself. And now I will state 
how it was that you were left at the Asylum when an infant. 
Your grandfather had procured for your father a commission in 
the army, and soon afterwards procured him a lieutenancy. 
He ordered him to marry a young lady of large fortune, whom 
he had never seen, and sent for him for that purpose. I under 
stand that she was very beautiful, and had your father seen her 
it is probable he would have made no objection; but he very 
foolishly sent a peremptory refusal, for which he was dismissed 
for ever. In a short time afterwards your father fell in love 
with a young lady of great personal attractions, ^nd supposed 
to possess a large fortune. To deceive her, he pretended to be 
the heir to the earldom, and, after a hasty courtship, they ran 
off and were married. When they compared notes, which they 
soon did, it was discovered that, on his side, he had nothing but 
the pay of a subaltern, and on hers, that she had not one shil- 
ling. Your father stormed, and called his wife an impostor; 
she recriminated, and the second morning after the marriage 
was passed in tears on her side, and oaths, curses, and revilings 
on his. The lady, however, appeared the more sensible party 
of the two. Their marriage was not known, she had run away 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


361 


on a pretence to visit a relative, and it was actually supposed in 
the country town where she resided, that such was the case. 
‘Why should we quarrel in this way?' observed she. ‘You, 
Edmund, wished to marry a fortune, and not me — I may plead 
guilty to the same duplicity. We have made a mistake ; but it 

is not too late. It is supposed that I am on a visit to , 

and that you are on furlough for a few days. Did you confide 
your secret to any of your brother officers V ‘ IN’ot one,' mut- 
tered your father. ‘ Well, then, let us part as if nothing had 
happened, and nobody will be the wiser! ' We are equally 
interested in keeping the secret. Is it agreed ?' — Your father 
immediately consented. He accompanied your mother to the 

house at , where she was expected, and she framed a 

story for her delay, by having met such a very polite young 
man. Your father returned to his regiment, and thus did they, 
like two privateers, who, when they meet and engage, as soon 
as they find out their mistake, hoist their colours, and sheer off 
by mutual consent." 

I can't say much for my mother's affection or delicacy," 
observed I. 

“ The less you say the better, Japhet — ^however, that is your 
father's story. And now to proceed. It appears that, about 
-two months afterwards, your father received a letter from your 
mother, acquainting him that their short intercourse had been 
productive of certain results, and requesting that he would take 
the necessary steps to provide for the child, and avoid exposure, 
or that she would be obliged to confess her marriage. By what 
means they contrived to avoid exposure until the period of her 
confinement, I know not, but your father states that the child 
was born in a house in London, and, by agreement, was 
instantly put into his hands ; that he, with the consent of his 
wife, left you at the door of the Asylum, with the paper and the 
bank note, from which you received the name of Newland. At 
the time, he had no idea of reclaiming you himself ; but the 
mother had ; for, heartless as she appears to have been, yet a 
mother Inust feel for her child. Your father's regiment was 

16 


362 ‘ JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

then ordered out to the East Indies, and he was rapidly pro- 
moted for his gallantry and good conduct during the war 
in the Mysore territory. Once only has he returned home on 
furlough, and then he did make some inquiries after you; not, it 
appears, with a view of finding you out on his owm account, but 
from a promise which he made your mother. 

“ My mother I what, have they met since ?” 

“Yes ; your mother went out to India on speculation, pass- 
ing off as a single girl, and was very well married there, I was 
going to say ; ho-rt^ever, she committed a very splendid bigamy.” 

“ Good heavens ! how totally destitute of principle !” 

“ Your father asserts that your mother was a free-thinker, 
Japhet ; her father had made her one ; without religion a 
woman ha's no stay. Your father wms in the up country during 
the time that your mother arrived, and was married to one 
of the council of Calcutta. Your father says that they met at 
a ball at Government House. She wms still a very handsome 
woman, and much admired. When your father recognised her, 
and was told that she was lately married to the honourable 

Mr. , he was quite electrified, and would have quitted the 

room ; but she had perceived him, and walking up to him with 
the greatest coolness, claimed him as an old acquaintance in 
England, and afterwards they often met, but she never adverted 
to what had passed between them, until the time for his 
departure to England on leave, and she then sent for him, and 
begged that he would make some inquiries after you, Japhet. 
He did so, and you know the result. On his return to India he 
found that your mother had been carried off by the prevailing 
pestilence. At that period, your father was not rich, but he 
was then appointed to the chief command in the Carnatic, and 
reaped a golden harvest in return for his success and bravery. 
It appears, as far as I could obtain it from him,.that as long as 
your mother was alive, he felt no interest about you ; but her 
death, and the subsequent wealth which poured upon him, 
have now induced him to find out an heir, to whom it may 
be bequeathed. • 


’APHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


363 


■ “ Such, Japhet, are the outlines of your father’s history , 
and I must point out that he has no feelings of affection for 
you at present. The conduct, of your mother is ever before 
him, and if it were not that he wishes an heir, I should almost 
say that his feelings are those of dislike. You may create an 
interest in his heart, it is true ; and he may be gratified by 
your personal appearance ; but you will have a very difiQcult 
task, as you will have to submit to his caprices and fancies, 
and I am afraid that, to a high spirit like yours, they will be 
almost unbearable.” 

“Eeally, sir, I begin to feel that the fondest anticipations 
are seldom realised, and almost to wish that I had not been 
sought for by my father. I was happy and contented, and 
now I do not see any chance of having to congratulate myself 
on the change,” 

“ On one or two points I also wish to question you. It 
appears that you have entered into the sect denominated 
Quakers. Tell me candidly, do you subscribe heartily' and 
sincerely to their doctrines ? And I was going to add, is it 
your intention to remain with them ? I perceive much diffi- 
culty in all this.” 

“ The tenets of the sect I certainly do believe to be more 
in accordance with the Christian religion than any other ; and 
I have no hesitation in asserting, from my knowledge of those 
who belong to that sect, that they, generally speaking, lead 
better lives. There are some points connected with their 
worship, which, at first, I considered ridiculous : the feeling 
has, however, worn off. As to their quaint manner of speak- 
ing, that has been grossly exaggerated. Their dress is a part 
of their religion.” 

“ Why so, Japhet ?” 

“ I can reply to you in the words of Susannah Temple, when 
[ made the same interrogatory. ‘You think the peculiarity 
of our dress is an outward form which is not required. It was 
put on to separate us from others, and as a proof of out 
sincerity ) but still, the discarding of the dress is a proof of 


3(54 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


Bincerity. We consider, that to admire the person is vain, and 
our creed is humility. It is therefore an outward and visible 
sign, that we would act up to those tenets which we profess. 
It is not all who wear the dress who are Quakers in heart or 
conduct ; but we know that when it is put aside, the tenets 
of our persuasion are at the same time renounced, therefore do. 
we consider it essential. I do not mean to say but that the 
heart may be as pure, and the faith continue as steadfast, 
without such signs outwardly, but it is a part of our creed, and 
we must not choose, but either reject all or none.' " 

“Very well argued by the little Quakeress; and now, 
Japhet, I should like to put another question to you. Are 
you very much attached to this young puritan 

“ I will not deny but that I am. I love her sincerely.” 

“ Does your love carry you so far, that you would, for her 
• sake, continue a Quaker, and marry her ?” 

“ I have asked myself that question at least a hundred times 
during the last twenty-four hours, and I cannot decide. If 
she would dress as others do, and allow me to do the same, 
I would marry her to-morrow ; whether I shall ever make up 
my mind to adhere to the persuasion, and live and die a 
Quaker for her sake, is quite another matter — ^but I am afraid 
not — I am too worldly-minded. The fact is, I am in a very 
awkward position with respect to her. I have never acknow- 
ledged my affection, or asked for a return, but she knows I 
love her, and I know that she loves me.” 

“ Like all vain boys, you flatter yourself.” 

“I leave you to judge, sir,” replied’!, repeating to him our 
partingT^e^e-a-^e^e, and how I had returned,, and found her in 
tears. 

“ All that certainly is very corroborative evidence ; but tell 
me, Japhet, do you think she loves you well-enough to abandon 
all for your sake ?” 

“No, nor ever will, sir, she is too high-principled, too high- 
minded. She might suffer greatly, but she never Trould swerve 
fi’ora what she thought was right.” 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. oGf 

She must be a fine character, Japhet, but you will be in a 
dilemma : indeed, it appears to me, that your troubles are now 
commencing instead of ending, and that you would have been 
much happier where you were, than you will be by being again 
brought out into the world. Your prospect is not over-cheer- 
ful. You have .an awkward father to deal with ; you will be 
under -a strong check, IVe a notion, and I am afraid you will 
find that, notwithstanding you will be once more received into 
society, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.” 

“ I am afraid you are right, sir,” replied I, “ but at all 
events, it will be something gained, to be acknowledged to the 
world by a father of good family, whatever else I may have to 
submit ‘to. I have been the sport of Fortune all my life, and 
probably she has not yet done playing with me ; but it is late, 
and I will now wish you good-night.” 

“ Good night, Japhet ; if I have any intelligence I will let 
you know. Lady de Clare’s address is No. 13, Park Street. 
You will, of course, go there as soon as you can.” 

“ I will, sir, after I have written my letters to my friends at 
Reading.” 


CHAPTER LXXIl. 

I AM A LITTLE JEALOUS, AND, LIKE THE IMMORTAL WILLIAM BOTTOM, 

INCLINED TO ENACT MORE PARTS THAN ONE WITH A BIG EFFORT 

MY HANKERING AFTER BIGAMY IS MASTERED BY MR. MASTER- 
TON AND BY MY OWN GOOD SENSE. 

I RETURNED liome to reflect upon what Mr. Masterton had told 
me, and I must say that I was not very well pleased with his 
various information. His account of my mother, although she 
was no more, distressed me, and, from the character which he 
gave of my father, I felt convinced that my happiness would 
not be at all increased by my having finally attained the long- 


3G6 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


desired object of my wishes. Strange to say, I had no sooner 
discovered my father, but I wished that he had never turned 
up ; and when I compared the peaceful and happy state of 
existence which I had lately enjoyed, with the prospects of 
what I had in future to submit to, I bitterly repented that the 
advertisement had been seen by Timothy ; still, on one point, 

I was peculiarly anxious, without hardly daring to anatomise 
my feelings ; it was relative to Cecilia de Clare, and what Mr. 
Masterton had mentioned in the course of our conversation. 
The next morning I wrote to Timothy and to Mr. Cophagus, 
giving them a short detail of what I had been informed by Mr. 
Masterton, and expressing a wish, which I then really did feel, 
that I had never been summoned away from them. 

Having finished my letters, I set off to Park Street, to call 
upon Lady de Clare and Cecilia. It was rather early, but the 
footman who opened the door recognised me, and I was ad- 
mitted upon his own responsibility. It was now more than 
eighteen months since I had quitted their house at Richmond, 
and I was very anxious to know what reception I might have. 
I followed the servant up stairs, and when he opened the door 
walked in, as my name was announced. 

Lady de Clare rose in haste ; so did Ceeilia, and so did a 
third person, whom I had not expected to have met — Har- 
court. “Mr. Newland,” exclaimed Lady de Clare, “this is 
indeed unexpected.” Cecilia also came forward, blushing to 
the forehead. Harcourt held back, as if waiting for the ad- 
vances to be made on my side. On the whole, I never felt 
more awkwardly, and I believe my feelings were reciprocated 
by the whole party. I was evidently de trap. 

“ Do you know Mr. Harcourt ?” at last said Lady de 
Clare. 

“ If it is the Mr. Harcourt I once knew,” replied I, “ I 
certainly do.” 

“ Believe me it is the same, Newland,” said Harcourt, coming 
lO me and offering his hand, which I took with pleasure. 

“ It is a long while since we met,” observed Cecilia, who felt 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


36t 


it nece«cary to say something, but, at the same time, did not 
like to ^nter upon my aiGfairs before Harcourt. 

'‘It is. Miss de Clare,” replied I, for I was not exactly 
pleased at my reception ; " but I have been fortunate since I 
had the pleasure of seeing you last.” 

Cecilia and her mother looked earnestly, as much as to say, 
in what ? — but did not like to ask the question. 

“ There is no one present who is not well acquainted with my 
history,” observed I, “that is, until the time that I left you and 
Lady de Clare, 'and I have no wish to create mystery. I have 
at last discovered my father.” 

“ I hope we are to congratulate you, Mr. Newland,” said 
Lady de Clare. 

“ As far as respectability and family are concerned, I cer- 
tainly have no reason to be ashamed,” replied I. “ He is the 
brother of an earl, and a general in the army. His name I will 
not mention until I have seen him, and I am formally and 
openly acknowledged. I have also the advantage of being an 
only son, and if I am not disinherited, heir to considerable pro- 
perty,” continued I, smiling sarcastically. “Perhaps I may 
now be better received than I have been as Japhet Newland the 
Foundling : but. Lady de Clare, I am afraid that I have in- 
truded unseasonably, and will now take my leave. Good morn- 
ing ;” and without waiting for a reply, I made a hasty retreat, 
and gained the door. 

“ Flushed with indignation, I had nearly gained the bottom 
of the stairs, when I heard a light footstep behind me, and my 
arm was caught by Cecilia de Clare. I turned round, and she 
looked me reproachfully in the face, as the tear stood in her 
eye. “ What have we done Japhet, that you should treat us 
in this manner ?” said she with emotion, 

“ Miss de Clare,” replied I, “ I have no reproaches to make. 

I perceived that my presence was not welcome, and I would no 
further intrude.” 

“ Are you then so proud, now that you have found out that 
you are well born, J aphet ?” 


368 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ I am much too proud to intrude where I am not wished 
for, Miss de Clare. As Japhet Newland, I came here to see 
the Fleta of former days. When I assume my real name, I 
shall always be most happy of an introduction to the daughter 
of Lady de Clare.” 

“ Oh ! how changed,” exclaimed she, fixing her large blue 
eyes on me. 

“ Prosperity changes us all, Miss de Clare. I wish you a 
very good morning ;” and I turned away, and crossed the hall 
to the door. 

As I went out I could not help looking back, and I perceived 
that Cecilia’s handkerchief was, held to her. eyes, as she slowly 
mounted the stairs. I walked home to the Piazza in no very 
pleasant humour. I was angry and disgusted at the coolness 
of my reception. I thought myself ill used, and treat.ed with 
ingratitude. “ So much for the world,” said I, as I sat down in 
my apartment, and spun my hat on the table. She has been 
out two seasons, and is no longer the same person. Yet how 
lovely she has grown ! But .why this change — and why was 
Harcourt there ? Could he have prejudiced them against me ? 
Very possibly.” While these ideas were running in my mind, 
and I was making comparisons between Cecilia de Clare and 
Susannah Temple — not much in favour of the former — and look- 
ing forward prospectively to the meeting with my father, tlic 
doubts as to my reception in society colouring every thing with 
the most sombre tints, the door opened, and in walked Ilar- 
court, announced by the waiter. 

“ A chair -for Mr. Harcourt,” said I to the waiter, with for- 
mality. 

“Newland,” said Harcourt, “I come for tw'O reasons : in 
the first place I am commissioned by the ladies to assure 
you ” 

“ I beg your pardon Mr. Harcourt, for interrupting you, but 
I require no ambassador from the ladies in question. They 
may make you their confidant if they please, but I am not at 
all inclined to do the same. Explanation, after what 1 wit- 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


36S 


nessed and felt this morning, is quite unnecessary. I surren 
der all claims upon either Lady de Clare or her daughter, if 1 
ever was so^ fool-hardy as to imagine that I had any. The first 
reason of your visit it is therefore useless to proceed with. May 
I ask the other reason which has procured me this honour ?” 

I hardly know, Mr. Newland,” replied Harcourt, colouring 
deeply, “ whether after what you have now said I ought to pro- 
ceed with the second — ^it related to myself.” 

“I am all attention, Mr. Harcourt,” replied I, bowing 
politely. 

“ It was to say, Mr. Newland, that I should have taken the 
earliest opportunity after my recovery, had you not disappeared 
so strangely, to have expressed my sorrow for my conduct 
towards you, and to have acknowledged that I had been 
deservedly punished : more perhaps by my own feelings of 
remorse, than by the dangerous wound I had received by your 
hand. I take even this opportunity, although not apparently 
a favorable one, of expressing what I consider it my duty, as a 
gentleman who has wronged another, to express. I certainly 
was going to add more, but there is so little chance of its being 
w'cll received, that I had better defer it to some future oppor- 
tunity. The time may come, and I certainly trust it will come, 
when I may be allowed to prove to you that I am not deserv- 
ing of the coolness with which I am now received. Mr. New- 
land, with every wish for your happiness, I will now take my 
leave ; but I must say, it is with painful sentiments, as I feel 
that the result of this interview will be the cause of great dis- 
cress to those who are bound to you not only by gratitude, but 
sincere regard.” 

Harcourt then bowed, and quitted the room. 

“It’s all very well,” muttered I, “ but I know the world, and 
am not to be soothed down by a few fine words. I trust that 
they will be sorry for their conduct, but see me again inside 
their doors they will not,” and I sat down, trying to feel satis- 
fied with myself — ^but I was not ; I felt that I had acted 
harshly, to say no more. I ought to have listened to an 

16* 


370 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


explanation sent by Cecilia and her mother, after her coming 
down stairs to expostulate. They were under great obligations 
to me, and by my quick resentment, I rendered th§ obligations 
more onerous. It was unkind of me, and I wished that Har* 
court had not left the room. As for his conduct, I tried to 
find fault with it, but could not. It w^as gentlemanly and feel- 
ing, The fact was, I was in_a very bad humour, and could not 
at the time discover the reason, which was neither more nor 
less than that I was more jealous of finding Ilarcourt so inti- 
mate at Lady de Clare’s, than I was at the unpalatable recep- 
tion which I had met with. The waiter came in, and brought 
me a note from Mr. Masterton. 

“ I have this morning received a summons from your father, 
who returned, it appears, two days ago, and is now at the 
Adelphi Hotel. I am sorry to say, that stepping out of his 
carriage when travelling, he missed his footing, and snapped 
his tendon Achilles. He is laid up on a couch, and, as you 
may suppose, his amiability is not increased by the accident, 
and the pain attending it. As he has requested me- to bring 
forward immediate evidence as to your identity, and the pres- 
ence of Mr. Cophagus is necessary, I propose that we start for 
Heading to-morrow at nine o’clock. ■ I have a curiosity to go 
down there, and having a leisure day or two, it will be a relax- 
ation. I wish to see my old acquaintance Timothy, and your 
shop. Answer by bearer. 

“ J. Masterton.” 

I wrote a few lines, informing Mr. Masterton that I would 
be with him at the appointed hour, and then sat down to my 
solitary meal. How different from when I was last at this 
hotel I Now I knew nobody. I had to regain my footing in 
society, and that could only be accomplished by being acknow- 
ledged by my father ; and, as soon as that was done, I would 
call upon Lord Windermear, who would quickly effect what I 
desired. The next morning I was ready at nine o’clock, and 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


371 


set. off with post horses, with Mr. Masterton, in his own car- 
riage. I told him what had occurred the day before, and how 
disgusted I was at my reception. 

“Upon my word, Japhet,.! think you are wrong,” replied the 
old gentleman ; “ and if you had not told me of your affection 
for Miss Temple, to see whom, by-the-by, I confess to be one of 
the chief motives of my going down with you, I should almost 
suppose that you were blinded by jealousy. Does it not occur 
to you, that if Mr. Harcourt was admitted to the ladies at such 
an early hour, there was preference shown him in that quarter ? 
And now I recollect that I heard something about it. Har- 
court’s elder brother died, and he’s come into the property, and 
1 heard somebody say that he would in all probability succeed 
In gaining the handsomest girl in London with a large fortune 
— that it was said to be a match. Now, if such be the case, 
and you broke in upon a quiet re-union between two young- 
people about to be united, almost without announcement, and 
so unexpectedly, after a lapse of so long a time, surely you 
cannot be surprised at there being a degree of confusion and 
restraint — more especially after what had passed between Har- 
court and you. Depend upon it, that was the cause of it. 
Had Lady de Clare and her daughter been alone, your recep- 
tion would have been very different ; indeed, Cecilia’s following 
you down stairs proves that it was not from coolness towards 
jrou ; and Harcourt calling upon you, and the conversation 
which took place, is another proof that you have been mis- 
taken.” 

“ I never viewed it in that light, certainly, sir,” observed I. 
“ I merely perceived that I was considered intrusive, and find- 
ing in the company one who had treated me ill, and had been 
my antagonist in the field, I naturally supposed that he had 
prejudiced them against me. I hope I may be wrong ; but I 
have seen so much of the world, young as I am, that I have 
become very suspicious.” 

“ Then discard suspicion as fast as you can ; it will only 
make you unhappy, and not prevent your being deceived. If 


372 JAHIET,. IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

you are suspicioiRS, you will have the constant fear of deceptioii 
lianging over you, which poisons existence.” 

After these remarks I remained silent for some time ; I was 
analysing my own feelings, and I felt that I had acted in a very 
absurd manner. The fact was, that one of my castle buildings 
had been, that I was to marry Fleta as soon as I had found my 
own father, and this it was which had actuated me, almost 
without my knowing it. I felt jealous of Harcourt, and that, 
without being in love "with Miss de Clare, but actually passion- 
ately fond of another person ; I felt as if I could have married 
her, without loving her, and that I could give up Susannah 
Temple, whom I did love, rather than that a being whom I 
considered as almost of my own creation should herself pre- 
sume to fall in love, or that another should dare to love her, 
until I had made up my mind whether I should take her 
myself ; and this after so long an absence, and their having 
■given up all hopes of ever seeing me again. The reader may 
smile at the absurdity, still more at the selfishness of this feel- 
ing ; so did I, when I had reflected upon it, and I despised 
myself for my vanity and folly. 

“ What are you thinking of, Japhet ?” observed Mr. Master- 
ton, tired with my long abstraction. 

“ That I have been making a most egregious fool of myself, 
sir,” replied I, “ with respect to the De Clares.” 

“I did not say so, Japhet; but to tell you the truth, I 
thought something very like it. Now tell me, were you not 
jealous at finding her in the company with Harcourt ?” 

“ Exactly so, sir.” 

‘‘ Ifll tell Susannah Temple when I see her, that she may 
form some idea of your constancy,” replied Mr. Masterton, 
smiling. “ Why what a dog in the manger you must be — you 
can’t marry them both. Still, under the circumstances, I can 
analyse the feeling — it is natural, but all that is natural is not 
always creditable to human nature. Let us talk a little about 
Susannah, and all these vagaries will be dispersed. How old 
is she ?” 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


373 


Mr. Masterton plied me with so many questions relative to 
Susannah, that her image alone soon filled my mind, and ] . 
recovered my spirits. “ I don’t know what she will say, at my 
being in this dress, sir,” observed I. “ Had I not better change 
^it on my arrival ?” 

“ By no means ; I’ll fight your battle — I know her character 
pretty well, thanks to your raving about her.” 


CHAPTER LXXIII. 

CONTAINS MUCH LEARNED ARGUMENT UPON BROAD-BRIMS AND, GAR- 
MENTS OP GREY 1 GET THE BEST OF IT THE ONE GREAT WISH 

OF MY LIFE IS GRANTED 1 MEET MY FATHER, AND A COLD 

RECEPTION, VERY INDICATIVE OF MUCH AFTER-HEAT. 

We arrived in good time at Reading, and, as .soon as we 
alighted at the inn, we ordered dinner, and then walked down 
to the shop, where we found Timothy very busy tying down 
and labelling. He was delighted to see Mr. Masterton ; and 
perceiving that I had laid aside the Quaker’s dress, made no 
scruple of indulging in his humour, making a long face, and 
thee-in^ and thou-m^ Mr. Masterton in a very absurd manner. 
"We desired him to go to Mr. Cophagus, and beg that he would 
allow nie to bring Mr. Masterton to drink tea, and afterwards 
to call at the inn and give us the answer. We then returned 
to our dinner. 

“Whether they will ever make a Quaker of you Japhet, 
I am very doubtful,” observed Mr. Masterton, as we walked 
back ; “ but as for making one of that fellow Timothy, I’ll defy 
them.” 

“ He laughs at everything,” replied I, “and views every 
thing in a ridiculous light — at all events, they never will make 
him serious.” 

In the evening, we adjourned to the house of Mr. Cophagus, 


8t4 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

having received a message of welcome. I entered the room 
first. Susannah came forward to welcome me, and then drew 
back, when she perceived the alteration in my apparel, colouring 
deeply. I passed her, and took the hand of Mrs. Cophagus and 
her husband, and then introduced Mr. Masterton. 

“ AVe hardly knew thee, Japhet,” mildly observed Mrs. Co- 
phagus. 

“ I did not think that outward garments would disguise me 
from my friends,” replied I ; “ but so it appeareth, for your sis- 
ter hath not even greeted me in welcome.” 

“ I greet thee in all kindness, and all sincerity, Japhet New- 
land,” replied Susannah, holding out her hand. “ Yet did I not 
imagine that, in so short a time, thou wouldst have dismissed 
the apparel of our persuasion, neither do I find it seemly.” 

“Miss Temple,” interposed Mr. Masterton, “it is to oblige 
those who are his sincere friends, that Mr. Newland has laid 
aside his dress. I quarrel with no creed — every one has a right 
to choose for himself, and Mr. Newland has perhaps not chosen 
badly, in embracing your tenets. Let him continue steadfast in 
them. But, fair young lady, there is no creed which is perfect, 
and, even in yours, we find imperfection. Our religion preaches 
humility, and therefore we do object to his wearing the garb of 
pride.” 

“ Of pride, sayest thou ? hath he not rather put olf the garb 
of humility, and now appeareth in the garb of pride.” 

“Not so, young madam : when we dress as all the world 
dress, we wear not the garb of pride ; but when we put on a 
dress different from others, that distinguishes us from others, 
then we show our pride, and the worst of pride, for it is the 
hypocritical pride which apes humility. It is the Pharisee of 
the Scriptures, who preaches in high places, and sounds forth 
his charity to the poor ; not the humility of the Publican, who 
says, ‘ Lord, be merciful to me, a dinner.’ Your apparel of 
pretended humility is the garb of pride, and for that reason 
have we insisted that he discards it, when with us. His tenets 
we interfere not witji. There can be no religion in dress ; and 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


375 


that must indeed be weak in itself, which requires dress for its 
support.” 

Susannah was astonished at this new feature of the case, so 
aptly put by the old lawyer, Mrs. Cophagus looked at hei 
husband, and Cophagus pinched my arm, evidently agreeing 
With him. When Mr. Masterton had finished speaking, Susan- 
nah waited a few seconds, and then replied, “ It becomes not 
one so young and weak as I am, to argue with thee, who art so 
much my senior. I cannot cavil at opinions which, if not cor- 
rect, at least are founded on the holy writings ; but I have 
been otherwise instructed.” 

“ Then let us drop the argument, Miss Susannah, and let me 
tell you, that Japhet wished to resume his Quaker’s dress, and 
I would not permit him. If there is any blame, it is to be laid 
to me ; and it’s no use being angry with an old man like my- 
self.” 

“ I have no right to be angry with any one,” replied Susan- 
nah. 

“ But you were angry Avith me, Susannah,” interrupted I. 

“ I cannot say that it was anger, Japhet Newland : I hardly 
know what the feeling might have been ; but I was wrong, and 
I must request thy forgiveness,” and Susannah held out her 
hand. 

“ I^ow you must forgive me too. Miss Temple,” 'said old Mas- 
terton, and Susannah laughed against her wishes. 

The conversation then became general. Mr. Masterton ex- 
plained to Mr. Cophagus what he required of him, and Mr. Co- 
phagus immediately acceded. It was arranged that he should 
go to town by the mail the next day. Mr. Masterton talked a 
great deal about my father, and gave his character in its true 
light, as he considered it would be advantageous to me so to 
do. He then entered into conversation upon a variety of topics, 
and was certainly very amusing. Susannah laughed very hear- 
tily before the evening was over, and Mr. Masterton retired to 
r.he hotel, for I had resolved to sleep in my own bed. 

I walked home with Mr. Masterton ; I then returned to the 


376 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


house, and found them all in the parlour. Mrs. Cophagus was 
expressing her delight at the amusement she had received, 
when I entered with a grave face. “I wish that I had not left 
you,” said I to Mrs. Cophagus ; "‘I am afraid to meet my 
father ; he will exact the most implicit obedience. What am I 
to do ? Must not I obey him ?” 

“In all things lawful,” replied Susannah, “most certainly, 
Japhet.” 

“ In all things lawful, Susannah I now tell me, in the very 
case of my apparel : Mr. Masterton says, that he never sviU 
permit me to wear the dress. What am I to do ?” 

“Thou hast thy religion and thy Bible for thy guide, 
Japhet.” 

“ I have ; and in the Bible I find written on tablets o^ stone 
by the prophet of God : ‘ Honour thy father and thy mother 
there is a positive commandment ; but I find no commandment 
to wear this or that dress. What think you ?” continued I, 
appealing to them all. 

“ I should bid thee honour thy father, Japhet,” replied Mrs. 
Cophagus, “ and you, Susannah ” 

“ I shall bid thee good night, Japhet.” 

At this reply we all laughed, and I perceived there was a 
smile on Susannah's face as she walked away. Mrs. Cophagus 
followed her,' laughing as she went, and Cophagus and I were 
alone. 

“Well, Japhet — see old gentleman — ^kiss — shak^ hands — 
and blessing — and so on.” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied I ; “ but if he treats me ill, I shall pro- 
bably come down here again. I am afraid that Susannah is 
not very well pleased with me.” 

“ Pooh, nonsense — ^wife knows all — die for you — Japhet, do 
as you please — dress yourself — dress her — any dress — no dress 
like Eve — sly puss — won’t lose you — all right — and so on.” 

I pressed Mr. Cophagus to tell me all he knew, and I found 
from him that his wife had questioned Susannah soon after my 
departure, had found her weeping, and that she had gained 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. ‘ 377 

from her the avowal of her ardent affection for mi This was 
all I wanted, and I wished him good night, and went to bed 
happy. I had an interview with Susannah Temple before I left 
the next morning, and, although I never mentioned love, had 
every reason to be satisfied. She was kind and affectionate ; 
spoke to me in her usual serious manner, warned me against 
the world, acknowledged that I should have great difficulties to 
surmount, and even made much allowance for my peculiar situa- 
tion. She dared not advise, but she would pray for me. There 
was a greater show of interest and confidence towards me than 
I had ever yet received from her : when I parted from her, I 
said, “ Dear Susannah, whatever change may take place in my 
fortunes or in my dress, believe me, my heart shall not be 
changed, and I shall ever adhere to those principles which have 
been instilled into me since I have been in your company.” 

This was a phrase which admitted of a double-meaning, and 
she replied, “ I should wish to see thee perfect, Japhet ;• but 
there is no perfection now on earth ; be therefore as perfect as 
you can.” 

“ God bless you, Susannah.” 

“ May the bles'sing of the Lord be on you always, Japhet,” 
replied she. 

I put my arm round her waist, and slightly pressed her tc 
my bosom. She gently disengaged herself, and her large eyes 
glistened with tears as she left the room. In a quarter of an 
hour I was with Mr. Masterton on the;,road to London. 

“ Japhet,” said the old gentleman, “ I will say that you have 
been very wise in your choice, and that your little Quaker is a 
most lovely creature: I am in love with her myself, and I think 
that she is far superior in personal attractions to Cecilia de 
Clare.” 

“ Indeed, sir ?” 

“ Yes, indeed ; her face is more classical, and her complexion 
is unrivalled ; as far as my present knowledge and experience 
go, she is an emblem of purity.” 

“ Her mind, sir, is as pure as her person.” 


STS JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“ I believe it ; she has a strong mind, and will think for her- 
self.” 

“ There, sir, is, I am afraid, the difficulty ; she will not yield 
a point in which she thinks she is right, not even for her love foi 
me.” 

“ I agree with you that she will not, and I admire her for it 
but, Japhet, she will yield to conviction, jind depend upon it, 
she will abandon the outward observances of her persuasion. 
Did you observe what a spoke I put in your wheel last night, 
when I stated that outward forms were pride. Leave that to 
work, and I’ll answer for the consequences ; she will not long 
wear that Quaker’s' dress. How beautiful she would be if she 
dressed like other people I I think I see her now entering a 
ball-room.” 

“ But what occasions you to think she will abandon her per- 
suasion ?” 

“ I do not say that she will abandon it, nor do I wish her to 
do it, nor do I wish you to do it, Japhet. There is much 
beauty and much perfection in the Quaker’s creed. All that 
requires to be abandoned are the dress and the ceremonies of 
the meetings, which are both absurdities. Recollect, that Miss 
Temple has been brought up as a Quaker ; she has, from the 
exclusiveness of the sect, known no other form of worship, and 
never heard any opposition to that which has been inculcated ; 
but let her once or twice enter the Established Church, hear its 
beautiful ritual, and listen to a sound preacher. Let her be 
persuaded to do that, wliich cannot be asking her to do wrong, 
and then let her think and act for herself, and my word for it, 
when she draws the comparison between what she has then 
heard and the nonsense occasionally uttered in the Quakers’ 
conventicle, by those who fancy themselves inspired, she will 
herself feel that, although the tenets of her persuasion may be 
more in accordance with true Christianity than those of other 
sects, the outward forms and observances are imperfect. I trust 
to her own good sense.” 

“ You make me very happy by saying so.” 


JAPEET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


379 


“ Well, that is my opinion of her, and if she proves me lo be 
correct, hang me if I don’t think I shall adopt her.” 

“ What do you think of Mrs. Cophagus, sir 

“ I think she is no more a Quaker in her heart than I am. 
She is a lively, merry, kind-hearted creature, and would have no 
objection to appear in feathers and diamonds to-morrow.” 

“ Well, sir, I can tell you that Mr. Cophagus stilb sighs after 
his blue cotton-net pantaloons and Hessian boots.” 

“ More fool he I but, however, I am glad of it, for it gives 
me an idea which I shall work upon by-and-by : at present we 
have this eventful meeting between you and your father to oc- 
cupy us.” 

We arrived in town in time for dinner, which Mr. Masterton 
had ordered at his chambers. As the old gentleman was rather 
tired with his two days’ travelling, I wished him good night at 
an early hour. 

“ Hecollect, Japhet, we are to be at the Adelphi hotel to- 
morrow at one o’clock — come in time.” 

I called upon Mr. Masterton at the time appointed on the 
ensuing day, and we drove to the hotel in which my father had 
located himself. On our arrival, we were ushered into a room 
on the ground floor, where we found Mr. Cophagus and two of 
the governors of the Foundling Hospital. 

‘‘Heally, Mr. Masterton,” said one of the latter gentlemen, 
‘‘ one would think that we were about to have an audience with 
a sovereign prince, and, instead of conferring favours, were 
about to receive them. My time is precious : I ought to have 
been in the city this half hour, and here is this old nabob keep- 
ing us waiting as if we were petitioners.” 

Mr. Masterton laughed, and said, “ Let us all go up stairs, 
and not wait to be sent for.” 

He called one of the waiters, and desired him to announce 
them to General De Benyon. They then followed the waiter, 
leaving me alone. I must say, that I was a little agitated ; 1 
heard the door open above, and then an angry growl like that 
of a wild beast; the door closed again, and all was quiet. 


380 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ And this,” thought I, “ is the result of all my fond anticipa* 
tions, of my ardent wishes, of my enthusiastic search. Instead 
of expressing anxiety to receive his son, he litigiously requires 
proofs, and more proofs, when he has received every satisfactory 
proof already. They say his temper is violent beyond control, 
and that submission irritates instead of appeasing him : what 
then if I resent ? I have heard that people of that description 
are to be better met with their own weapons : — suppose I try 
it ; — but no, I have no right : — I will however be firm, and 
keep my temper under every circumstance : I will show him, at 
least, that- his son has the spirit and feelings of a gentle- 
man.” 

As these thoughts passed in my mind the door opened, and 
Mr. Masterton requested me to follow him. I obeyed with a 
palpitating heart ; and when I had gained the landing-place 
up stairs, Mr. Masterton took my hand and led me into the 
presence of my long-sought-for and much-dreaded parent. I 
may as well describe him and the wholp tableau. The room 
was long and narrow, and, at the farther end, was a large sofa, 
on which was seated my father with his injured leg reposing 
on it, his crutches propped against the wall. On each side of 
him were two large poles and stands, each with a magnificent 
macaw. Next to the macaws were two native servants, 
arrayed in their muslin dresses, with their arms folded. A 
hooka was in advance of the table before the sofa ; it was 
magnificently wrought in silver, and the snake passed under the 
table, so that the tube was within my honoured father’s reach. 
On one side of the room sat the two governors of the Found- 
ling Hospital, on the other was seated Mr. Cophagus in his 
Quaker’s dress ; the empty chair next to him had been occu- 
pied by Mr. Masterton. I looked at my father : he was a man 
of great size, apparently six feet three or four inches, and stout 
in proportion, without being burdened with fat : he was gaunt, 
broad-shouldered and muscular, and I think must have weighed 
seventeen or eighteen stone. His head was in proportion to his 
body, and very large : so were all his features upon the same 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


381 


grand scale. His complexion was of a brownish-yellow, and his 
hair of a snowy white. He wore his whiskers very large and 
joined together under the throat, and these, which were also 
white, from the circle which they formed round his face, and 
contrasting with the colour of the skin, gave his tout ensemble 
much more the appearance of a royal Bengal tiger than a 
gentleman. General De Benyon saw Mr. Masterton leading 
me forward to within a pace or tivo of the table before the 
general. , “Allow me the pleasure of introducing your son, 
Japliet.” * 

There was no hand extended to welcome me. My father 
fixed his proud grey eyes upon me for a moment, and then 
turned to the governors of the hospital. 

“Is this the person, gentlemen, whom you received as an 
infant and brought up as Japhet Newland?^^ 

The governors declared I was the same person ; that they 
liad bound me to Mr. Cophagus, and had seen me more than 
once since I quitted the Asylum. 

“ Is this the Japhet Newland whom you received from these 
^'entlemen and brought up to your business 

“ Yea, and verily — I do affirm the same — smart lad — good 
boy — and so on.” 

“ I will not take a Quaker’s affirmation — you will take your 
oath, sir?” 

“ Yes,” replied Cophagus, forgetting his Quakership ; “take 
oath — bring Bible — kiss book — and so on.” 

“ You, then, as a Quaker, have no objection to swear to the 
identity of this person ?” 

“ Swear,” cried Cophagus, “ yes, swear— swear now — not 
Japhet !— I’m damned— go to hell— and so on.” 

The other parties present could not help laughing at this 
explosion from Cophagus, neither could I. Mr. Masterton then 
asked the general if he required any more proofs. 

“ Is 0,” replied the general discourteously ; and speaking in 
Hindostanee to his attendants, they walked to the door and 
opened it The Innt was taken, Mr. Masterton saying to tlie 


382 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


others in an ironical tone, “ After so long a separation, gentle- 
men, it must be natural that the general should wish to be left 
alone, that he may give vent'to his paternal feelings.” 


CHAPTER LXXIY. 

FATHER AND I GROW WARM IN OUR ARGUMENT OBLIGED TO GIVE 

HIM A LITTL^ SCHOOLING TO SHOW MY AFFECTION ^TAKES IT 

'AT LAST VERY KINDLY, AND VERY DUTIFULLY OWNS HIMSELF A 
FOOL. 

In the mean time, I was left standing in the middle of the 
room : the gentlemen departed, and the two native servants 
resumed their stations on each side of the sofa. I felt humiliated 
and indignant, but waited in silence ; at last, my honoured 
parent, who had eyed me for some time, commenced : — 

“ If you think, young man, to wdn my favour by your good 
looks, you are very much mistaken : you are too like your 
mother, whose memory is any thing but agreeable.” 

The blood mounted to my forehead at this cruel observation; 
I folded my arms and looked my father steadfastly in the face, 
but made no reply. The choler of the gentleman was raised. 

“ It appears that I have found a most dutiful son.” 

I wms about to make an angry answer, when I recollected 
myself, and I courteously replied, “ My dear general, depend 
upon it that your son will always be ready to pay duty to whom 
duty is due ; but excuse me, in the agitation of this meeting 
you have forgotten those little attentions which courtesy de- 
mands : with your permission I will take a chair, and then we 
may converse more at our ease. I hope your leg is better.” 

I said this with the blandest voice and the most studied 
politeness,' and drawing a chair towards the table, I took my 
seat ; as I expected, it put my honoured father in a tremendous 
rage. 


JAPHET, IN .SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


383 


“ If this is a specimen, sir, of your duty and respect, sir, 1 
hope to see no more of them. To whom your duty is due, sir ! 
— and pray to whom is it due, sir, if not to the author of your 
existence V’ cried the general, striking the table before him with 
his enormous fist, so as to make the ink fly out of the stand 
some inches high and bespatter the papers near it. 

“ My dear father, you are perfectly correct ; duty, as you 
say, is due to the author of our existence. If I recollect right, 
the commandment says, ‘ Honour your father and your mother;^ 
but at the same time, if I may venture to offer an observation, 
are there not such things as reciprocal duties — some which are 
even more paramount in a father than the mere begetting of a 
son ?”■ 

“ What do you mean, sir, by these insolent remarks inter- 
rupted my father. 

“ Excuse me, my dear father, I may be wrong, but if so, I will 
bow to your superior judgment ; but it does appear to me, that 
the mere hanging me in a basket at the gate of the Foundling 
Hospital, and leaving me a bank-note of fifty pounds to educate 
and maintain me until the age of twenty-four, are not exactly 
all the duties incumbent upon a parent. If you think that they 
are, I am afraid that the world, as well as myself, will be of a 
different opinion. Kot that I intend to make any complaint, as 
I feel assured that now circumstances have put it in your power, 
it is your intention to make me amends for leaving me so long 
in a state of destitution, and wholly dependent upon my own 
resources.” 

“ You do, do you, sir ? well, now. I’ll tell you my resolution, 
which is — There is the door — go out, and never let me see your 
face again.” 

“ My dear father, as I am convinced this is only a little 
pleasantry on your part, or perhaps a mere trial whether I am 
possessed of the spirit and determination of a He Benyon, I 
shall, of course, please you by not complying with your humour* 
ous request.” 

‘‘ Won’t you, by G — d ?” roared my father j then turning to 


384 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


his two native servants, he spoke to them in Hindostanee. 
They immediately walked to the door, threw it wide open, and 
then coming back to me, were about to take me by the arms. 
I certainly felt my blood boil, but I recollected how necessary 
it was to keep my temper. I rose from my chair, and advanc- 
ing to the side of the sofa, I said, — 

“ My dear father, as I perceive that you do not require your 
crutches at this moment, you will not perhaps object to my 
taking one. These foreign scoundrels must not be permitted 
to insult you through the person of your only son.^? 

“ Turn him out,” roared my father. 

The natives advanced, but I whirled the crutch round my 
head, and in a moment they were both prostrate. As soon as 
they gained their feet, I attacked them again, until they made 
their escape out of the room ; I then shut the door and turned 
the key. 

“ Thank you, my dear sir,” said I, returning the crutch to 
where it was before. “ Many thanks for thus permitting me to 
chastise the insolence of these black scoundrels, whom, I take 
it for granted, you will immediately discharge ;” and I again 
took my seat in the chair, bringing it closer to him. 

The rage of the general was now beyond all bounds ; tlie 
white foam was spluttered out of his mouth, as he in vain 
endeavoured to find words. Once he actually rose from the 
sofa, to take the law in his own hands, but the effort seriously 
injured his leg, and he threw himself down in pain and disap- 
pointment. 

“ My dear father, I am afraid that, in your anxiety to help 
me, you have hurt your leg again,” said I, in a soothing voice. 

“ Sirrah, sirrah,” exclaimed he at last, “ if you think that 
this will do, you are very much mistaken. You don’t know 
me. You may turn out a couple of cowardly blacks, but now 
I’ll show you that I am not to be played with. I discard you 
for ever — I disinherit — I disacknowledge you. You may take 
your choice, either to quit this room, or be put into the hands 
of the police.” 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 385 

The police, my dear sir I What can the police do ? I 
may call in the police for the assault just committed by your 
servants, and have them up to Bow Street, but you cannot 
charge me with an assault.” 

“ But I will, by G — d, sir, true or not true.” 

“ Indeed you would not, my dear father. A De Benyon 
would never be guilty of a lie. Besides, if you were to call in 
the police ; — I wish to argue this matter coolly, because I 
ascribe your present little burst of ill-humour to your sufferings 
from your unfortunate accident. Allowing, then, my dear 
father, that you were to charge me with an assault, I should 
immediately be under the necessity of charging you also, and 
then we must both go to Bow Street together. Were you 
ever at Bow Street, general ?” The general made no reply, 
and I proceeded. “ Besides, my dear sir, only imagine how 
very awkward it would be when the magistrate put you on 
your oath, and asked you to make your charge. What would 
you be obliged to declare ? That you had married when 
young, and finding that your wife had no fortune, had deserted 
her the second day after your marriage. That you, an officer 
in the army, and the Honourable Captain de Benyon, had hung 
up your child at the gates of the Foundling Hospital — that 
you had again met your wife, married to another, and had been 
an accomplice in concealing her capital offence of bigamy, and 
had had meetings with her, although she belonged to another. 
I say meetings, for you did meet her, to receive her directions 
about me. I am charitable, and suspect nothing — others will 
not be so. Then, after her death, you come home and inquire 
about your son. His identity is established, — and what then ? 
not only you do not take him by the hand, in common civility, 
I might say, but you first try to turn him out of the house, and 
to give him in charge of the police ; and then you will have to 
Rtat,e for what. Perhaps you will answer me that question, for 
I really do not know.” 

By this time, my honoured father^s wrath had, to a certain 
degree, subsided : he heard all I had to say, and he felt how 

IT 


386 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

very ridiculous would have been his intended proceedings, and, 
as his wrath subsided, so did his pain increase ; he had seriously 
injured his leg, and it was swelling rapidly — the bandages 
tightened in consequence, and he was suffering under the 
acutest pain. “ Oh, oh !” groaned he. 

‘‘ My dear father, can I assist you 

‘'King the bell, sir. 

“ There is no occasion to summon assistance while I am 
here, my dear general., I can attend you professionally, 
and if you will allow me, will soon relieve your pain. Your 
leg has swollen from exertion, and the bandages must be 
loosened." 

He made no reply, but' his features were distorted with 
extreme pain. I went to him, and proceeded to unloose 
the bandages, which gave him considerable relief. I then 
replaced them, secundum artem, and with great tenderness, 
and going to the sideboard, took the lotion which was stand- 
ing there with the other bottles, and wetted the bandages. 
In a few minutes he was quite relieved. “ Perhaps, sir," 
said I, “ you had better try to sleep a little. I will take 
a book, and shall have great pleasure in watching by your 
side." 

Exhausted with pain . and violence, the general made no 
reply ; he fell back on the sofa, and, in a short time, he snored 
most comfortably. “ I have conquered you,” thought I, as I 
watched him as he lay asleep. “ If I have not yet, I will, that 
I am resolved." I walked gently to the door, unlocked it, and 
opening it without waking him, ordered some broth to be 
brought up immediately, saying that the general was asleep, 
and that I would wait for it outside. I accomplished this little 
manoeuvre, and reclosed the door without waking my father, 
and then I took my seat in the chair, and resumed my book, 
having placed the broth on the side of the fire grate tc 
keep it warm. In about an hour he awoke, and looked around 
him. 

“ Do you want any thing, my dearest father ?" inquired I 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 381 

The general appeared undecided as to whether to recommence 
hostilities ; but at last he said, “I wish the attendance of my 
servants, sir.” 

“ The attendance of a servant can never be equal to that of 
your own son, general,” replied I, going to the fire, and taking 
the basin of broth, which I replaced upon the tray containing 
the et ceteras on a napkin. “ I expected you would require your 
broth, and I have had it ready for you.” 

“ It was what I did require, sk*, I must acknowledge,” 
replied my father, and without further remark he finished the 
broth. 

I removed the tray, and then went for the lotion, and again 
wetted the bandages on his leg. “ Is. there any thing else I caB 
do for you, sir ?” said I. 

“Nothing — I am very comfortable.” 

“ Then, sir,” replied I, “I will now take my leave. You 
have desired me to quit your presence for ever ; and you 
attempted force. I resisted that, because I would not allow 
you to have the painful remembrance that you had injured one 
who had strong claims upon you, and had never injured you. I 
resented it also, because I wished to prove to you that I was a 
De Benyon, and had spirit to resist an insult. But, general, if 
you imagine that I have come here with a determination of 
forcing myself upon you, you are much mistaken. I am too 
proud, and happily am independent by my own exertions, so as 
not to require your assistance. Had you received me kindly, 
believe me, you would have found a grateful and alfectionate 
lieart to have met that kindness. You would have found a son, 
wliose sole object through life has been to discover a father, 
after whom he has yearned, who would have been delighted to 
have administered to his wants, to have yielded to his wishes, 
to have soothed him in his pain, and to have watched him* in his 
sickness. Deserted as I have been for so many years, I trust 
that I have not disgraced you. General De Benyon ; and if ever 
I have done wrong, it has been from a wish to discover you. 1 
can appeal to Lord Windermear for the truth of that assertion, 


388 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


Allow me to say, that it is a very severe trial — an ordeal which 
few pass through with safety — to be thrown as I have been 
upon tl)e world, with no friend, no parent to assist or to advise 
me, to have to bear up against the contingency of being of 
unacknowledged and perhaps disgraceful birth. It is harder 
still, when I expected to find my dearest wishes realised, that, 
without any other cause than that of my features resembling 
those of my mother, I am to be again cast away. One thing. 
General De Benyon, I request, and I trust it will not be denied, 
which is, that I may assume the name which I am entitled to. 
I pledge you that I never will disgrace it. And now, sir, ask- 
ing and expecting no more, I take my leave, and you may 
be assured, that neither poverty, privation, nor affliction of any 
kind, will ever induce me to again intrude into your presence. 
General De Beiiyon, farewell for ever.” 

I made my father a profound bow, and was quitting the 
room. 

“ Stop, sir,” said the general. “ Stop one moment, if you 
please.” 

I obeyed. 

“Why did you put me out of temper? Answer me that.” 

“ Allow me to observe, sir, that I did not put you out of tem- 
per ; and what is more, that I never lost my own temper 
during the insult and injury which I so undeservedly and unex- 
pectedly have received.” 

“ But that very keeping your temper made me more angry, 
sir.” 

“ That is very possible ; but surely I was not to blame. The 
greatest proof of a perfect gentleman is, that he is able to com- 
mand his temper, and I wished you to acknowledge that I was 
not without such pretensions.” 

“ That is as much as to say that your father is no gentleman; 
and this, I presume, is a specimen of your filial duty,” replied 
the general, warmly. 

“ Ear from it, sir ; there are many gentlemen who, unfortu- 
nately' cannot command their tempers, and are more to bo 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 38 ‘J 

pitied thau blamed for it ; but, sir, wlien such happens to be 
the case, they invariably redeem their error, and amply so, by 
expressing their sorrow, and offering an apology.” 

“ That is as much as to say, that you expect me to apologise 
to you.” 

“ Allow me, sir, to ask you, did you ever know a De Benyon 
submit to an insult ?” 

“ No, sir, I trust not.” 

“ Then, sir, those whose feelings of pride will not allow them 
to submit to an insult ought never to insult others. If, in the 
warmth of the moment, they have done so, that pride should 
immediately induce them to offer an apology, not only due to 
the party, but to their own characters. There is no disgrace in 
making an apology when we are in error, but there is a great 
disgrace in withholding such an act of common justice and 
reparation.” 

I presume I am to infer from all this, that you expect an 
apology from me ?” 

“ General De Benyon, as far as I am concerned, that is 
now of little importance ; we part, and shall probably never 
meet again ; if you think that it would make you feel more 
comfortable, I am willing to receive it.” 

“ I must suppose by that observation, that you fully expect 
it, and otherwise will not stay ?” 

‘‘ I never had a thought of staying, general ; you have told 
me that you have disinherited and discarded me for ever ; no 
one with the feelings of a man would ev3r think of remaining 
after such a declaration.” 

“ Upon what terms, then, sir, am I to understand that you 
will consent to remain with me, and forget all that has 
passed ?” 

“ My terms are simple, general ; you must say that you 
retract what you have said, and are very sorry for having 
insulted me.” 

“ And without I do that, you will never come here again ?” 

“ Most decidedly not, sir. I shall always wish you well, pray 


390 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


for your happiness, be sorry at your death, and attend your fun- 
eral as chief mourner, although you disinherit me. That is my 
duty, in return for my having taken your name, and your hav- 
ing acknowledged that I am your son ; but live with you, or 
even see you occasionally, I will not, after what has passed this 
day, without you make me an apology.” 

“ I was not aware that it was necessary for a father to apo 
logise to his son.” 

“ If you wrong a stranger, you olfer an apology ; how much 
more is it due to a near relation ?” 

“ But a parent has claims upon his owm son, sir, for which lie 
is bound to tender his duty.” 

“I grant it, in the ordinary course of things in this life; 
but. General de Benyon, what claims have you as a parent 
upon me ? A son in most cases is indebted to his parents for 
their care and attention in infancy — his education — his religious 
instruction — his choice of a profession, and his advancement in 
life, by their exertions and interest ; and when they are called 
away, he has a reasonable expectation of their leaving him a 
portion of their substance. They have a heavy debt of grati- 
tude to pay for what they have received, and they are further 
checked by the hopes of what they may hereafter receive. Up 
to this time, sir, I have not received the first, and this day I 
am told that I need not expect the last. Allow me to ask you, 
General de Benyon, upon what grounds you claim from me a 
filial duty ? certainly not for benefits received, or for benefits 
in expectation ; but I feel that I am intruding, and therefore, sir, 
once more, with every wish for your happiness, I take my leave.” 

I went out, and had half closed the door after me, when the 
general cried out, “Stop — douT go — Japhet — my son — I was 
in a passion — I beg your pardon — don’t mind what I said — I’m 
a passionate old fool.” 

As he uttered this in broken sentences, I returned to him. 
He held out his hand. “ Forgive me, boy — forgive your 
father.” I knelt dowm and kissed his hand ; he drew me 
towards him, and I wept upon his bosom. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


391 


CHAPTER LXXV. 

FATHER STILL DUTIFULLY SUBMISSIVE AT HOME ABROAD I AM 

SPLITTING A STRAW IN ARGUMENTS WITH SUSANNAH ABOUT STRAW 

BONNETS THE REST OF THE CHAPTER CONTAINS COQUETRY, 

COURTING, AND COSTUMES. 

It was some time before we were sufficiently composed to enter 
into conversation, and then I tried my utmost to please him. 
Still there was naturally a restraint on both sides, but I was 
so particular, and devoted in my attentions, so careful of giving 
. offence, that when he complained of weariness, and a wish to 
retire, he stipulated that I should.be with him to breakfast on 
the next morning. 

I hastened to Mr. Masterton, although it was late, to com- 
municate to him all that had passed : he heard me with great 
interest. . “ Japhet,” said he, ‘‘you have done well — it is the 
proudest day of your life. You have completely mastered him- 
The royal Bengal, tiger is tamed. I wish you joy, my dear 
fellow. Now I trust that all will be well. But keep your own 
counsel ; do not let this be known at Reading. Let them still 
imagine that your father is as passionate as ever, which he will 
be, by-the-by, with every body else. You have still to follow 
up your success, and leave me to help you in other matters.” 

I returned home to the Piazza, and, thankful to Heaven for 
the events of the day, I soon fell fast asleep, and dreamt of 
Susannah Temple. The next morning I was early at the 
Adelphi Hotel ; my father had not yet risen, but the native 
servants who passed in and out, attending upon him, and who 
took care to give me a wide berth, had informed him that 
“ Burra Saib’s ” son was come, and he sent for me. His leg 
was very painful and uncomfortable, and the surgeon had not 
yet made his appearance. I arranged it as before, and he then 
dressed, and came out to breakfast. ’ I had said nothing before 
the servants, but as soon as he was comfortable on the sofa, J * 


392 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


took Ills hand, .and kissed it, saying, Good morning, my deal 
father ; I hope you do not ropent of your kindness to me 
yesterday.” 

“No, no ; God bless you, boy. Pve been thinking of you 
all night.” 

“ Albs right,” thought I ; “ and I trust to be able to keep it 
so.” 

I shall pass over a fortnight, during which I was in constant 
attendance upon my father. At times he would fly out in a 
most violent manner, but I invariably kept my temper, and 
when it was all over, would laugh at him, generally repeating 
and acting all which he had said and done during his paroxysm. 
I found this rather dangerous ground at first, but by degrees 
he became used to it, and it was wonderful how it acted as a 
check upon him. He would not at first believe but that I exag- 
gerated, when the picture was held up to his view and he was 
again calm. My father was not naturally a bad-tempered man, 
but having been living among a servile race, and holding high 
command in the army, he had gradually acquired a habit of 
authority, and an impatience of contradiction, which was unbear- 
able to all around. Those who were high-spirited and sensitive 
shunned him ; the servile and the base continued with him for 
tlieir own interests, but trembled at his wrath. I had during 
this time narrated to my father the events of my life, and, I am 
happy to say, had, by attention and kindness, joined with firm- 
ness and good temper, acquired- a dominion over him. I had 
at his request removed to the hotel, and lived with him alto- 
gether. His leg was rapidly arriving to a state of convales- 
cence, and he now talked of taking a house and setting up his 
establishment in London. I had seen but little of Mr. Master- 
ton during this time, as I had remained in-doors in attendance 
upon the general. I had written once to Mr. Cophagus, stating 
how I was occupied, but saying nothing about our reconcilia- 
tion. ^ One morning, Mr. Masterton called upon us, and after a 
little conversation with the general, he told me that he had 
^liersuaded Mr. Cophagus and his wife to leave Reading and 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


393 


come to London, and that Susannah Temple was to come with 
them. . 

“ On a visit V’ inquired I. 

“No, not on a visit. I have seen Cophagus, and he is deter- 
mined to cut the Quakers, and reside in London altogether.” 

“ What ! does he intend to return to the pomps and vanities 
of this wicked world 

“ Yes, I believe so, and his wife will join him. She has no 
objection to decorate her pretty person.” 

“ I never thought that she had — but Susannah Temple ” 

“ When Susannah is away from her friends, when she finds 
that her sister and brother-in-law no longer wear the dress, and 
when she is constantly in your company, to all which please to 
add the effect I trust of my serious admonitions, she will soon 
do as others do, or she is no woman. This is all my plan, and 
leave it to me — only play your part by seeing as much of her 
as you can.” 

“You need not fear that,” replied I. 

“ Does your father know of your attachment ?” inquired Mr. 
Masterton. 

“No, I passed her over without mentioning her name,” 
replied I. “ It is too soon yet to talk to him about my marry- 
ing ; in fact, the proposal must, if possible, come from him. 
Could not you manage that ?” 

‘‘ Yes, I will if I can ; but, as you say, wait awhile. Here 
is their address — you must call to-morrow, if you can ; and do 
you think you can dine with me on Thursday ?” 

“ Yes, if the general continues improving ; if not, I will send 
you word,” 

The next day I complained of a head-ache, and said, that I 
would walk out until dinner-time. I hastened to the address 
given me by Mr. Masterton, and found that Mr. Cophagus and 
his wife were out, but Susannah remained at home. After our 
first questions, I inquired of her how she liked London. 

“ I am almost afraid to say, Japhet, at least to you ; you 
would only laugh at me.” 


394 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

“Not SO, Susannah ; I never laugh when I know people are 
sincere.” 

“ It appears to me then to be a vanity fair.” 

“ That there is more vanity in London than in any other city 
I grant,” replied I ; “ but recollect, that there are more people 
and more wealth. I do not think that there is more in propor- 
tion than in other towns in England, and if there is more 
vanity, Susannah, recollect also that there is more industry, 
more talent, and I should hope a greater proportion of good 
and honest people among its multitudes ; there is also, unfor- 
tunately, more misery and more crime.” 

“ I believe you are right, Japhet. Are you aware that Mr. 
Oophagus has put off his plain attire ?” 

“ If it grieves you, Susannah, it grieves me also ; bnt I pre- 
sume he finds it necessary not to be so remarkable.” 

“ For him, I conld find some excuse ; but what will you say, 
Japhet, when I tell you that my own sister, born and bred up 
to our tenets, hath also much deviated from the dress of the 
females of our sect ?” 

“ In what hath she made an alteration ?” 

“ She has a bonnet of plaited straw with ribands.” 

“ Of what colour are the ribands ?” 

“ Nay, of the same as her dress — of grey.” 

“ Your bonnet, Susannah, is of grey silk ; I do not see that 
there is vanity in descending to straw, which is a more homely 
commodity. But what reason has she given ?” 

“ That her husband wills it, as he does not like to walk vdth 
her in her Quaker’s dress.” 

“ Is it not her duty to obey her husband, even as I obey my 
father, Susannah ? — ^but I am not ashamed to walk out with 
you in your dress ; so if you have no objection, let me show you 
a part of this great city.” 

Susannah consented : we had often walked together in the 
town of Reading : she was evidently pleased at what I said. I 
soon escorted her to Oxford-street, from thence down Bond- 
street and through all the most frequented parts of the metro- 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


395 


polis. The dress naturally drew upon her the casual glance of 
the passengers, but her extreme beauty turned the glance to an . 
ardent gaze, and long before we had finished our intended 
walk, Susannah requested that I would go home. She was not 
only annoyed but almost alarmed at the. constant and reiterated 
scrutiny which she underwent, ascribing it to her dress, and not 
to her lovely person. As soon as we returned I sat down 
with her. 

So I understand that Mr. Cophagus intends to reside alto- 
. gether in London.” 

‘‘ I have not heard sc ; I understood that it was business 
which called him hither for a few weeks. I trust not, for I 
shall be unhappy here.” 

May I ask why ?” 

“The people are rude — it is not agreeable to walk out.” 

“ Recollect, my dear Susannah, that those of your sect are 
not so plentiful in London as elsewhere, and if you wear a dress 
so different from other people, you must expect that curiosity 
will be excited. You cannot blame them — it is you who make 
yourself conspicuous, almost saying to the people by your gar- 
ment, ‘ Come, and look at me.^ I have been reflecting upon 
what Mr. Masterton said to you at Reading, and I do not know 
whether he was not right in calling it a garb of pride instead 
of a garb of humility.” 

“If I thought so, Japhet, even I would throw it off,” re- 
plied Susannah. 

“ It certainly is not pleasant that every one should think that 
you walk out on purpose to be stared at, yet such is the ill- 
natured construction of the world, and they will never believe 
otherwise. It is possible, I should think, to dress with equal 
simplicity and neatness, to avoid gay colours, and yet to dress 
so as not to excite observation.” 

“ I hardly know what to say, but that you all appear against 
me, and that sometimes, I feel that I am too presumptuous in 
thus judging for myself.” 

“ I am not against you, Susannah ; I know you will do 


396 JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

what you think is right, and I shall respect you for that, eren 
if I disagree with you ; but I must say, that if my wife were to 
dress in such a way as to attract the public gaze, I should feel 
too jealous to approve of it. I do not, therefore, blame Mr. 
Cophagus for inducing his pretty wife to make some alteration 
in her attire, neither do I blame, but I commend her for obey- 
ii)g the wishes of her husband. Her beauty is his, and not 
common property.” 

Susannah did not reply : she appeared very thoughtful. 

“You disagree with me,. Susannah,” said I, after a pause ; 
“I am sorry for it.” 

“ I cannot say that I do ; Japhet, I have learned a lesson 
this day, and, in future, I must think more humbly of my- 
self, and be more ruled by the opinions and judgment of 
others.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus then came in. Cophagus had re- 
sumed his medical coat and waistcoat, but not his pantaloons 
or Hessians : his wife, who had a very good taste in dress, 
would not allow him. She was in her grey silk gown, but wore 
a large handsome shawl, which covered all but the skirts : on 
her head she had a Leghorn bonnet, and certainly looked very 
pretty. As usual, she was all good humour and smiles. I told 
them that we had been walking out, and that Susannah had 
been much annoyed by the staring of the people. 

“ Always so,” said Cophagus, “ never mind — girls like it — 
feel pleased — and so on.” 

“You wrong me much, brother Cophagus,” replied Susannah, 
“ it pained me exceedingly.” 

“ All very well to say so— know better — sly puss — will weai- 
dress — people say, pretty Quaker — and so on.” 

Susannah hastily left the room' after this attack, and I told 
them what had passed. 

“Mrs. Cophagus,” said I, “order a bonnet and shawl like 
yours for her, without telling her, and, perhaps, you will per- 
suade her to put them on.” 

Mrs. Cophagus thought the idea excellent, and promised to 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 0^7 

procure them. Susannah not making her re-appearance, I took 
leave, and arrived at the hotel in good time for dinner. 

“ Japhet,” said the general to me as we were at table, “you 
have mentioned Lord Windermear very often, have you called 
upon him lately 

“No, sir, it is now two years and more since I have seen 
him. When I was summoned to town to meet you, I was too 
much agitated to think of any thing else, and since that I have 
had too much pleasure in your company.” 

“ Say rather, my good boy, that you have nursed me so care- 
fully that you have neglected your friends and your health. 
Take my carriage to-morrow, and call upon him, and after that, 
you had better drive about a little, for you have been looking 
pale these last few days. I hope to get out myself in a short 
time, and then we will have plenty of amusement together in 
setting up our establishment.” • 


— 

CHAPTER LXXVI. 

\ RENEW OIJ) TIES OF FRIENDSHIP, AND SEEK NET^ ONES OP 

love OBLIGED TO TAKE MY FATHER TO TASK ONCE MORE HE 

RECEIVES HIS LESSON WITH PROPER OBEDIENCE. 

X TOOK the carriage the next day, and drove to Lord Winder- 
mear’s. He was at home, and I gave my name to tlie servant, 
as Mr. He Henyon. It was the first time that I had made use 
of ray own name. His lordship was alone when I entered. He 
bowed, as if not recognising me, and waved his hand to a chair. 

“ My lord, I have given my true name, and you treat me as 
a perfect stranger. I will mention my former name, and I trust 
you will honour mo with a recognition. I was Japhet New- 
iand.” 

“ My dear Mr. Newland, you must accept my apology ; but 


398 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


it is SO long since we met, and I did not expect to see yon 
again.” 

“ I thought, my lord, that Mr. Master ton had informed you 
of what had taken place.” 

“ No ; I have just come from a visit to my sisters iu West- 
moreland, and have received no letters from him.” 

“ I have, my lord, at last succeeded in finding out the object 
of my mad search, as you were truly pleased to call it, in the 
Honourable General He Benyon, lately arrived from the East 
Indies.” 

“Where his services are well known,” added his lordship. 
“ Mr. He Benyon, I congratulate you with all my heart. When 
you refused my offers of assistance, and left us all in that mad 
way, I certainly despaired of ever seeing you again. I am glad 
that you re-appear under such fortunate auspices. Has your 
father any family ?” 

“ None, my lord, but myself ; and my mother died in the 
East Indies.” 

“ Then, I presume, from what I know at the board of con- 
troul, that you may now safely be introduced as a young gentle- 
man of large fortune ; allow me, at least, to assist your father 
in placing you in your proper sphere in society. Where is your 
father ?” 

“ At present, my lord, he is staying at the Adelphi Hotel, 
confined to his room by an accident ; but I trust that in a few 
days he will able to come out.” 

“Will you offer my congratulations to him, and tell him, 
that if he will allow me, I will have the honour of paying my 
respects to him. Will you dine with me on Monday next ?” 

I returned my thanks, accepted the invitation, and took my 
leave, his lordship saying, as he shook hands with me, “ You 
don’t know how happy this intelligence has made me. I trust 
that your father and I shall be good friends.” 

When I returned to the carriage, as my father had desired 
me to take an airing, I thought I might as well hav6 a com- 
panion, so I directed them to drive to Mr. Cophagus’s. The 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


399 


servant knocked, and I went in as soon as , the door was 
opened. Susannah and Mrs. Cophagus were sitting in the 
room. 

“ Susannah,” said I, “I know you do not like to walk out, 
BO I thought, perhaps, you would have no objection to take an 
airing in the carriage : my father has lent it to me. Will you 
come ? — ^it will do you good.” 

“ It is very kind of you, Japhct, to think of me ; but ” 

“ But what ?” replied Mrs. Cophagus. “ Surely thou wilt 
not refuse, Susannah. It would savour much of ingratitude on 
thy part.” 

“ I will not then be ungrateful,” replied Susannah, leaving 
the room : and in a short time she returned in a Leghorn 
bonnet and shawl like her sister’s. “ Do not I prove that I am 
not ungrateful, Japhet, since to do credit to thy carriage, I 
am content to depart from the rules of our persuasion ?” said 
Susannah, smiling. 

“ I feel the kindness and the -sacrifice you are making to 
please me, Susannah,” replied I ; “ but let us lose no time.” 

I handed her down to the carriage, and we drove to the 
Park. It was a beautiful day, and the Park was filled with 
pedestrians as well as carriages. Susannah was much aston- 
ished as well as pleased. “Now, Susannah,” said I, “If you 
were to call this Vanity Fair, you would not be far wrong ; 
but still, recollect that even all this is productive of much 
good. Deflect how many industrious people find employment 
and provision for their families by the building of these gay 
vehicles, their painting and ornamenting. How many are 
employed at the loom and at the needle, in making these costly 
dresses. This vanity is the cause of wealth not being hoarded, 
but finding its way through various channels, so as to produce 
comfort and happiness to thousands.” 

“ Your observations are just, Japhet, but you have lived iu 
the world, and seen much of it. I am as one just burst from 
an egg-shell, all amazement. I have been liviug in a little 
JForld of my own thoughts, surrounded by a mist of ignorance, 


400 


JAPHET, IK SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


and not being able to penetrate farther, have considered myself 
wise when I was not.” 

“ My dear Susannah, this is a checkered world, but not a 
very bad one^there is in it much of good as well as evil. The 
sect to which you belong avoid it — they know it not — and they 
are unjust towards it. During the time that I lived at Read- 
ing, I will candidly state to you that I met with many who 
called themselves of the persuasion, who were wholly unworthy 
of it, but they made up in outward appearance and hypocrisy 
what they wanted in their conduct to their fellow-creatures. 
Believe me, Susannah, there are pious and good, charitable and 
humane, conscientious and strictly honourable people among 
those who now pass before your view in such gay procession ; 
but society requires that the rich should spend their money in 
superfluities, that the poor may be supported. Be not de- 
ceived, therefore, in future, by the outward garments, which 
avail nothing. 

“ You have induced me much to alter my opinions already, 
Japhet ; so has that pleasant friend of thine, Mr. Masterton, 
who has twice called since we have been in London ; but is it 
not time that we should return ?” 

“ It is indeed later than I thought it was, Susannah,” replied 
I, looking at my watch, “ and I am afraid that my father will 
be impatient for my return. I will order them to drive home.” 

As we drove along, leaning against the back of the carriage, 
my hand happened to touch that of Susannah, which lay beside 
her on the cushion, and I could not resist taking it in mine, 
and it was not withdrawn. What my thoughts were, the 
reader may imagine : Susannah’s I cannot acquaint him with ; 
but in that position we remained in silence until the carriage 
stopped at Cophagus’s door. I handed Susannah out of the 
carriage, and went up stairs for a few moments. Mrs. Copha- 
gus and her husband were out. 

“ Susannah, this is very kind of you, and I return you my 
thanks. I never felt more happy than when seated with you in 
that carriage.” 


JAPIIET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


40J 


I haye received both amusement and instruction, Japliet, 
and ought to thank you. Do you know what passed in my 
mind at one time V’ 

“ No — tell me.” 

“When I first knew you, and you came among us, I was, as 
it were, the guide, a presumptuous one, perhaps, to you, and you 
listened to me — now it is reversed — now that we are removed, 
and in the world, it is you that are the guide, and it is I who 
listen and obey.” 

“ Because, Susannah, when we first met I was much in error, 
and had thought too little of serious things, and you were fit to 
be my guide : now we are mixing in the world, with which I 
am better acquainted than yourself. You then corrected me 
when I was wrong : I now point out to you where you are not 
rightly informed ; but, Susannah, what you have learnt of me 
is as nought compared with the valuable precepts which I 
gained from your lips, precepts which, I trust, no collision with 
the world will ever make me forget.” 

“Oh I I love to hear you say that ; I was fearful that the 
world would spoil you, Japhet ; but it will not — will it ?” 

“Not so long as I have you still with me, Susannah : but if 
I am obliged to mix again -with the world, tell me, Susannah, 
will you reject me ? — ^ will you desert me ? — will you return to’ 
your own people, and leave me so exposed ? Susannah, dear- 
est, you must know how long, how dearly I have loved you : — 
you know that, if I had not been sent for and obliged to obey 
the message, I would have lived and died content with you. 
Will you not listen to me now, or do you reject me ?” 

I put my arm round her waist, her head fell upon my shoul- 
der, and she burst into tears. “ Speak, dearest, this suspense 
is torture to me,” continued I. 

“I do love you, Japhet,” replied she at last, looking fondly 
at me through her tears ; “ but I know not whether this earthly 
love may not have weakened my affection towards Heaven. If 
30, may God pardon me, for I cannot help it.” 

After this avowal, for a few minutes, which appeared 


402 JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

seconds, we were in each other’s arms, when Susannah disen 
gaged herself. 

“Dearest Japhet, thy father will be much displeased.’’ 

“ I cannot help it,” replied I — “ I shall submit to his dis- 
pleasure.” 

“ Nay, but, Japhet, why risk thy father’s wrath ?” 

Well, then,” replied I, attempting to reach her lips, “ 1 
will go.” 

“Nay, nay — ^indeed, Japhet, you exact too much- -it is not 
seemly.” 

“ Tlnm I won’t go.” 

“ Decollect about thy father.” 

“ It is you who detain me, Susannah.” 

“ I must not injure thee with thy father, Japhet, it weie 
no proof of my affection — but, indeed, you are self-willed.” 

“ God bless you, Susannah,” said I, as I gained the contested 
point, and hastened to the carriage. 

My father was a little out of humour when I returned, and 
questioned me rather sharply as to where I had been. I half 
pacified him by delivering Lord Wiedermear’s polite message ; 
but he continued his interrogations : and although I had 
pointed out to him that a De Benyon wordd never be guilty of 
an untruth, I am afraid I told some ba'i dozen on this occasion; 
but I consoled myself with the reflection that, in the code of 
honour of a fashionable man, he is bound, if necessary, to tell 
falsehoods where a lady is concerned ; so I said I had driven 
through the streets looking at the houses, and had twice stop- 
ped, and had gone in to examine them. My father supposed 
that I had been looking out for a house for him, and was satis- 
fied. Fortunately they were job horses ; had they been his 
own, I should have been in a severe scrape. Horses are the 
only part of an establishment for which the gentlemen have any 
consideration, and on wLich ladies have no mercy. 

I had promised the next day to dine with Mr. Masterton. 
My father had taken a great aversion to this old gentleman 
until I had narrated the events of my life, in which he had 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


403 


playod such a conspicuous and friendly part. Then, to do my 
father justice, his heart warmed towards him. 

“ My dear sir, I have promised to dine out to day.” 

“ With whom, Japhet ?” 

“ Why, sir, to tell you the truth, with that ^ old thief of a 
lawyer.^ ” 

“ I am very much shocked at your using such an expression 
toward one who has been such a sincere friend, Japhet ; and 
you will oblige me, sir, by not doing so again in my presence.” 

“I really beg your pardon, general,” replied I, “but I 
thought to please you.” 

“ Please me I what do you think of me ? please me, sir, by 
showing yourself ungrateful I — I am ashamed of you, sir.” 

“ My dear father, I borrowed the expression from you. You 
called Mr. Masterton ‘ an old thief of a lawyer ^ to his face : he 
complained to me of the language before I had the pleasure of 
meeting you. I feel, and always shall feel, the highest respect, 
love, and gratitude towards him. Have I your permission to 
go?” * , 

“ Yes, Japhet,” replied my father, looking very grave, “ and 
do me the favour to apologise for me to Mr. JSIasterton for my 
having used such an expression in my unfortunate warmth of 
temper — I am ashamed of myself.” 

“ My dearest father, no man need be ashamed who is so ready 
to make honourable reparation we are all a little out of tem- 
per at times.” 

“You have been a kind friend to me, Japhet, as well as a 
good son,” replied my father, with some emotion. “ Don’t for- 
get the apology at all events : I shall be unhappy until it be 
made.” 


404 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF i FATHER. 


CHAPTER LXXVII. 

TREATS OF APOLOGIES, AND LOVE COMING FROM CHURCH WE 

FINESSE WITH THE NABOB TO WIN ME A WIFE 1 AM SUC- 

CESSFUL IN MY SUIT, YET THE LAWYER IS STILL TO PLAY THE 
CARDS TO ENABLE ME TO WIN THE GAME. 

I ARRIVED at Mr. Masterton's, and walked into his room, when 
whom should I find in company with him but Harcourt. 

“ Japhet, I’m glad to see you : allow me to introduce you to 
Mr. Harcourt — Mr. De Benyon,” and the old gentleman grinned 
maliciously, but I was not to be taken aback. 

“ Harcourt,” said I, extending my hand, “ I have to apologise 
to you for a rude reception and for unjust susjDicions, but I was 
vexed at the time — if you will admit that as an excuse.” 

“My dear Japhet,” replied Harcourt, taking my hand and 
shaking it warmly, “ I have to -apologise to you for much more 
unworthy behaviour, and it will be a great relief to my mind if 
you will once more enrol me in the list of your friends.” 

“ And now, Mr. Masterton,” said I, “ as apologies appear to 
be the order of the day, I bring you one from the general, who 
has requested me to make one to you for having called you ‘ an 
old thief of a lawyer,’ of which he was totally ignorant until I 
reminded him of it to-day.” 

Harcourt burst into a laugh. 

“Well, Japhet, you may tell your old tiger, that I did not 
feel particularly afironted, as I look his expression profession- 
ally and not personally, and if he meant it in that sense, he was 
not far wrong. Japhet, to-morrow is Sunday ; do you go to 
meeting or to church ?” 

“ I believe, sir, that I shall go to church.” 

“Well, then, come with me : — be here at half-past two — we 
will go to evening service at St. James’s.” - 

“ I have received many invitations, but I never yet received 
an invitation to go to church,” replied I. 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


405 


“You will hear an extra lesson of the day — a portion of 
Susannah and the Elders.” 

I took the equivoque, which was incomprehensible to Har- 
court : I hardly need say, that the latter and I were on the 
best terms. When we separated, Harcourt requested leave to 
call upon me the next morning, and Mr. Masterton said that he 
should also pay his respects to the tiger, as he invariably called 
my most honoured parent. 

Harcourt was with me very soon after breakfast ; and after 
I had introduced him to my “ Governor,” we retired to talk 
without interruption. 

“ I have much to say to you. He Benyon,” commenced Har- 
court : “ first let me tell you, that after I rose from my bed, 
and discovered that you had disappeared, I resolved, if possi- 
ble, to find you out and induce you to come back. Timothy, 
who looked very sly at me, would tell me nothing, but that the 
last that was heard of you was at Lady de Clare’s, at Rich- 
mond. Having no other clue; I went down there, introduced 
myself, and, as they will tell you, candidly acknowledged that 
I had treated you ill. I then requested that they would give 
me any clue by which you might be found, for I had an oppor- 
tunity of offering to you a situation which was at my father’s 
disposal, and which any gentleman might have accepted, 
altlM)ugh it was not very lucrative.” ' 

“ It was very kind of you, Harcourt.” 

“Do not say, that, I beg. It was thus that I formed an 
acquaintance with Lady de Clare and her daughter, whose early 
history, as Fleta, I had obtained from you, but whom I little 
imagined to be the little girl that you had so generously pro- 
tected ; for it was not until after I had deserted you, that you 
had discovered her parentage. The extreme interest relative 
to you evinced by both the mother and the daughter surprised 
rac. They had heard of my name from you, but not of our 
quarrel. They urged me, and thanked me for proposing to 
follow you and find you out : I did make every attempt. I 
went to Brentford, inquired at all the public houses, and of all 


406 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


the coachmen who went down the road, but could obtain no in- 
formation, except that at one public house a gentleman stopped 
with a portmanteau, and soon afterwards went away with it 
on his shoulders. I returned to Richmond with the tidings of 
my ill-success about a week after I had first called there. 
Cecilia was much affected, and cried very bitterly. I could not 
help asking Lady de Clare why she took such a strong interest 
in your fortunes. ‘ Who ought,’ replied Cecilia, ‘ if his poor 
Fleta does not V ‘ Good Heavens I Miss de Clare, are you the 
little Fleta whom he found with the gipsies, and talked to me 
so much about V ‘ Rid you not know it V said Lady de Clare. 
I then explained to her all that had latterly passed between us, 
and they in return communicated your events and dangers in’ 
Ireland. Thus was an intimacy formed, and ever since I have 
been constantly welcome at their house. I did not, however, 
abandon my inquiries for many months, when I thought it was 
useless, and I had to console poor Cecilia, who constantly 
mourned for you. And now, Japhet, I must make my story 
short : I could not help admiring a young person who showed 
so much attachment and gratitude joined to such personal at- 
tractions ; but she was an heiress, and I was a younger brother. 
Still Lady de Clare insisted upon my coming to the house ; and 
I was undecided how to act, when the unfortunate death of my 
elder brother put me in a situation to aspire to her hand. 
After that my visits were more frequent ; and I was tacitly 
received as a suitor by Lady de Glare, and had no reason to 
complain of the treatment I received from Cecilia. Such was 
the position of affairs until the day on which you broke in upon 
us so unexpectedly ; and at the very moment that you came in, 
I had, with the sanction of her mother, made an offer to Cecilia, 
and was anxiously awaiting an answer from her own dear lips’ 
Can you, therefore, be surprised, Japhet, at there being a degree 
of constraint on all sides at the interruption occasioned by the 
presence of one who had long been considered lost to us? 
Or that a young person just deciding upon the most important 
step of her life should feel confused and agitated at the 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 407 

eiitmnce of a third party,- however dear he might be to her 
as a brother and benefactor 

“ I am perfectly satisfied, Harcourt,” replied I ; “ and I will 
go there, and make my peace as soon as I can.” 

“Indeed, Japhet, if you knew the distress of Cecilia, you 
v/ould pity and love her more than ever. Her mother is also 
much annoyed. As soon as you were gone, they desired me to 
hasten after you and bring you back. Cecilia had not yet 
given her an.swer ; I requested it before my departure ; but, 1 
presume to stimulate me, she declared that she would give me 
no answer until 1 re-appeared with you. This is now three weeks 
ago, and I have not dared to go there. I have been trying all 
1 can to see you again since you repulsed me at the Piazza, but 
without success, until I went to Mr. Masterton, and begged 
him to procure me an interview. I thank God it has suc- 
ceeded.” 

“ Well, Harcourt, you shall see Cecilia to-morrow morning, 
if you please.” 

“ Japhet, what obligations I am under to you I Had it not 
been for you I never should have known Cecilia ; and more, 
were it not for your kindness, I might perhaps lose her for 
ever.” 

“Not so, Harcourt ; it was your own good feeling prompting 
you to find me out, which introduced you to Cecilia, and.1 wish 
you joy with all my heart. This is a strange world— who 
would have imagined that, in little Fleta, I was picking up a 
wife for a man whose life I nearly took away ? I will ask my 
‘ Governor’ for his carriage to-morrow, and will call and take 
you up at your lodgings at two o’clock, if that hour will suit 
you. I will tell you all that has passed since I absconded, 
when we are at Lady Clare’s : one story will do for all.” 

Harcourt then took his leave, and I returned to my father, 
with whom I found Lord Windermeai;. 

“ He Benyon, I am happy to sec you again,” said his lord- 
ship. “ I have just been giving a very good character of you 
to the general ; I hope you will continue to deserve it.” 


408 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FA'^HER. 

“ I hope SO too, my lord ; I should be ungrateful, indeed, if 
I did not, after my father’s kindness to me.” 

Mr. Masterton was then introduced : Lord Windermear 
shook hands with him, and after a short conversation took his 
leave. 

“ Japhet,” said Mr. Masterton, aside', “ I have a little busi- 
ness with your father ; get out of the room any way you think 
best.” 

“There are but two ways, my dear sir,” replied I, “ the door 
or the windows : with your permission, I will seJeci the former, 
as the most agreeable ;” so saying, I went to my own room. 
What passed between the general and Mr. Masterton I did not 
know until afterwards, but they were closeted upwards of art 
hour, when I was sent for by Mr. Masterton. 

“ Japhet, you said you would go with me to hear the new 
preacher ; we have no time to lose ; so, general, I shall take 
fliy leave and run away with your son.” 

I followed Mr. Masterton into his carriage, and we drove to 
the lodging of Mr. Cophagus. Susannah was all ready, and Mr. 
Masterton went up stairs and brought her down. A blush 
and a sweet smile illumined her features when she perceived me 
stowed away in the corner of the chariot. We drove ojff, and 
somehow or another our hands again met, and did not sepa- 
rate until we arrived at the church door. Susannah had the 
same dress on as when she had accompanied me in my father’s 
carriage. I went through the responses with her, reading out 
of the same book, and I never felt more inclined to be devout, 
for I was happy, and grateful to Heaven for my happiness. 
When the service was over, we were about to enter the car- 
riage, when who should accost us but Harcourt. 

“ You are surprised to see me here^” said he to Mr. Master- 
ton : “ but I thought there must be something very attractive, 
that you should make an appointment with Japhet to go to this 
church, and as I am very fond of a good sermon, I determined 
to come and hear it.” 

Harcourt’s ironical look told me all he would say. 


JAPHET, IN search OF A FATHER. 


409 


“ Well/’ replied Mr. Masterton, “ I hope you have been edi- 
fied — now get out of the way, and let us go into the car- 
riage.” 

“ To-morrow at two, De Benyon,” said Harcourt, taking 
another peep at Susannah. 

“Yes, punctually,” replied I, as the carriage drove off. 

“ And now, my dear child,” said Mr. Masterton to Susannah, 
as the carriage rolled along, “ tell me, have you been dis- 
appointed, or do you agree with me ? You have attended 
a meeting of your own persuasion this morning — you have now, 
for the first time, listened to the ritual of the Established 
Church. To which do you give the preference ?” 

’ “ I will not deny, sir, that I think, in departing from the 
forms of worship, those of my persuasion did not do wisely. 
I would not venture thus mucli to say, but you support me 
in my judgment.” 

“You have answered like a good, sensible girl, and have 
proved that you can think .for yourself ; but observe, my child, 
I have persuaded for you once, and once only, to enter our 
place of worship, that you might compare and judge for your- 
self : it now remains for you to decide as you please.” 

“ I would that some better qualified would decide for me,” 
replied Susannah, gravely. 

“Your husband, Susannah,” whispered I, “must take that 
responsibility upon himself. Is lie not the proper person ?” 

Susannah slightly pressed my hand, which held hers, and 
said nothing. As soon as we had conveyed her home, Mr. 
Masterton offered to do me the same kindness, which I ac- 
cepted. 

“ Now, Japhet, I dare say that you would like to know 
what it was I had so particular to say to the old general this 
morning.” 

“ Of course I would, sir, if it concerned me.” 

“ It did concern you, for we had not been two minutes in 
conversation, before you were brought on the tapis : he spoke 
of you with tears in his eyes — of what a comfort you had been 

18 


410 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 


to him, and how happy you had made him ; and that he could 
not bear you to be away from him for half an hour. On that 
hint I spake, and observed that he must not expect you to con- 
tinue in retirement long, neither must he blame you, that when 
he had set up his establishment, you would be as great a 
favourite as you were before, and be unable, without giving 
offence, to refuse the numerous invitations which you would 
receive. In short, that it was nothing but right you should 
resume your position in society, and it was his duty to submit 
to it. The old ‘ Governor’ did not appear to like my observa- 
tions, and said he expected otherwise from you. I replied ‘ that 
it was im.possible to change our natures ; and the other sex 
would naturally have attractions which you would not be able 
to resist, and that they would occupy a large portion of your 
time. The only way to insure his company, my dear sir, is to 
marry him to a steady, amiable young woman, who, not hav- 
ing been thrown into the vortex of fashion, will find pleasure in 
domestic life. Then her husband will become equally domestic, 
and you will be all very happy together.’ Your father agreed 
with me, and appeared very anxious that it should take place. 
I then very carefully introduced Miss Temple, saying, that I 
knew you had a slight partiality in that quarter, highly com- 
mending her beauty, prudence, &c. I stated, that feeling an 
interest about you, I had gone down into the country where she 
resided, and had made her acquaintance, and had been much 
pleased with her ; that since she had come up to town with her 
relations, I had seen a great deal, and had formed so high an 
opinion of, and so strong an attachment to her, and had felt so 
convinced that she was the very person who would make you 
happy and domestic, that having no family myself, I liad some 
idea of adopting her. At all events, that if she married you, I 
was determined to give her something very handsome on the 
day of the wedding.” 

“ But, my dear sir, why should you not have said that Susan- 
nah Temple was left an orphan at seve4 years old, and her for- 
tune has accumulated ever since ? It is by no means despicable, 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 411 

I understand, from Mr. Cophagus ; and, moreover, Mr. Copha 
gus intends to leave her all his property.” 

“ I am very glad to hear it, J aphet, and will not fail tc 
communicate all this to your father ; but there is no reason 
why I may not do as I please with my own money — and I love 
that girl dearly. By-the-by, have you ever said any thing to 
her ?” 

“ O yes, sir, we are pledged to each other.” 

‘‘ That^s all right : I thought so, when I saw your fingers 
hooked together in the carriage. But now, Japhet, 1 should 
recommend a little indifference — not exactly opposition, when 
your father proposes the subject to you. It will make him 
more anxious, and when you consent, more obliged to you. I 
have promised to call upon him to-morrow, on that and other 
business, and you had better be out of the way.” 

“ I Ehall be out of the way, sir : T mean to go with Ilarcourt 
to Lady de Clarets. I shall ask for the carriage.” 

“ He will certainly lend it to yuu, as he wishes to get rid of 
.you ; but here we are : God bless you, my boy.” 


CUAPrER LXXVIII. 

THE BENGAL imER TAKEN IN THE TOILS, WHICH PROMISE A SPEED! 

END TO MINE 1 KINDLY PERJIIT MY FATHER TO INSIST UPON THE 

MARRIAGE THAT I HAVE SET MY HEART UPON. 

I FOUND ray father, wlio hnd now completely recovered from his 
accident, walking up and down the room in a brown study. 
He did not speak to me until after dinner, when he commenced 
with asking some questions relative to Cecilia de Clare. I 
replied, “ that I intended, if he did not want the carriage, U 
call there to-morrow with Mr. Harcourt.” 

“ Is she very handsome ?” inquired he. 


412 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ Very much so, sir. I do not think I ever saw a handsomer 
young person. Yes, I do recollect one.” 

“ Who was that 

“ A young lady with whom I was slightly acquainted, when 
living in the country.” 

“ I have been thinking, my dear boy, that with the com- 
petence which you will have, it is right that you should marry 
early : in so doing you will oblige your father, who is anxious 
to see his grandchildren before he dies. My health is not very 
good.” 

I could not help smiling at this pathetic touch of the old 
“ governor’s,” who, if one could judge from appearances, was 
as strong as a lion, and likely to last almost as long as his 
dutiful son. Moreover, his appetite was enormous, and he 
invariably finished his bottle every day. I did not, there- 
fore, feel any serious alarm as to his health ; but I never- 
theless replied, “Matrimony is a subject upon which I have 
never thought,” — (a hem ! a De Benyon never tells an 
untruth!) “I am very young yet, and am too hapi^y to 
remain with you.” 

“ But, my dear boy, I propose that you shall remain with 
me — we will all live together. I do not intend that we shall 
part. I really wish, Japhet, you would think seriously of it.” 

“ My dear father, allow me to observe, that (it present I 
am not in a situation to support a wife, and 1 should be sorry 
to be a tax upon you, at your age : you require many com- 
forts and luxuries, and I presume that you live up to your 
income.” 

“ Then, my dear fellow, you are under a great mistake. I 
can lay down one hundred thousand pounds on the day of your 
marriage, with any lady whom I approve of, and still not spend 
half my remaining income.” 

“ That, sir,” replied I, “ certainly removes one difficulty, at 
the same time that it proves what a generous and indulgent 
father I am blessed with ; but, sir, with such a fortune, I have 
a right to expect that the lady will also .bring ^a handsome 


JAPHET, IX SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


413 


addition. Miss Do Clare is engaged, I believe, to Mr. Ilar- 
court, or I might have made strong interest in that quarter.” 

“ Something, my dear boy ; but a moderate fortune now-a- 
days is all that we expect with wives, and the best wives are 
those who are not born to too much wealth ; still she should 
bring something ; but tell me, Japhet, w’ho is that young lady 
whom you thought handsomer than Miss De Clare ?” 

“ A Miss Temple, sir.” 

Temple — it is a very good name. I think girls brought up 
in the country make the best wives.” 

They do, sir, most certainly : they are more domestic, and 
make their husbands more content and happy at home.” 

“Well, my dear boy, I have mentioned the subject, and wish 
you would think of it. You will please me much.” 

“ My dear father, I shall be most happy to obey in every 
thing else, but in so serious a point- as uniting myself for life, I 
think you must allow that a little discretionary power should 
be given to a son. All I can say is this, show me a young per 
son who is eligible, and if I find that I can love her, I wnll not 
refuse to obey your wishes.” 

“ Well, sir, do as you please,” replied my father very angrily, 
“ but I think, sir, w hen I desire you to fall in love it is your 
duty to obey.” 

“ Su])})ose I was to fall in love with a person you did not like, 
would you allow' mo to marry her ?” 

“ Most certainly not, sir.” 

“Then, sir, 'is it reasonable to expect me to marry w'ithout 
being in love ?” 

“ I did not marry for love, sir.”* 

“ No,” replied I, forgetting myself a little ; “ and a pretty 
mess you made of it.” 

“ I did,” rejoined my father in a rage, “ by begetting an im- 
dutiful, good-for-nothing, graceless, insolent, ungrateful son.” 

“ My dear father, I was not aware that I had a brother.” 

“ I mean you, sir ” 

“ To prove to you how unjust you are, sir, and how little 1 


414 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

deserve what you have called me, I now promise you to mairj 
as soon as you wish.” 

“ Thank you, my boy, that’s kind of you ; but I w ill say that 
you are a comfort and a treasure to me, and I bless the day 
that brought you to my arms. Well, then, look about you.” 

“ [N'o, sir, I leave it all to you ; select the party, and I am 
willing to obey you.” 

“ My dear boy I Well, then. I’ll talk the matter over with 
Mr. Masterton to-morrow,” and the general shook me warml / 
by the hand. 

The next day I picked up Harcourt, and proceeded to Park 
Street. A note from him had informed them of our intended 
visit,. and other visiters had been denied. “All has been ex- 
plained, Cecilia,” 'said I, after the first greeting : “I was very 
wrong, and very foolish.” 

“ And made me very miserable. I little thought that you, 
Japhet, would have made me cry so much ; but I forgive you 
for it, as I would a thousand times as much more. Now sit 
down and tell us all that has happened since you left us.” 

“Not yet, my dear Cecilia. You, as well as I, owe a repu- 
ration to poor Harcourt, whom, I think, you have treated 
cruelly. You were about to answer a question of vital moment 
when I broke in upon you, and you have since kept liim in a 
state of cruel suspense for more than three weeks, refusing him 
an answer until he brought me into your presence. An hour of 
such suspense must be dreadful, and before we sit down, I wish 
every one should feel comfortable and happy.” 

“ It was not altogether to stimulate Mr. Harcourt to bring 
you back, which induced me to refuse to ansv/er his q\ies- 
tion, Japhet. I considered that your return had rendered it 
necessary that it should be deferred until I saw you. I have 
not forgotten, Japhet, and never forget, what 1 was when you 
rescued me ; and when I think what I might have been had 
you not saved me, I shudder at the bare idea. I have not for- 
gotten how you risked, and nearly lost your life in Ireland for 
my sake — neither has my mother. We are beholden to you for 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


415 


all our present happiness, and I am eternally indebted to you 
for rescuing me from ignorance, poverty, and perhaps vice. 
Yon have been more, much more, than a father to me — more, 
much more, ll.au a brother. I am, as it were, a creature of 
yojLr own lYfehloniug, and I owe to you that which I never can 
repay. When, then, you returned so unexpectedly, Japhet, I 
felt that you had a paramount right in my disposal, and I was 
glad that I had not replied to Mr. Harcourt, as I wished first 
for your sanction and approval. I know all that has passed 
between you, but I know not your real feelings towards Mr. 
Harcourt : he acknowledges that he treated you very ill, and it 
was his sincere repentance of having so done, and his praise of 
you, which first won my favour. And now, Japhet, if you have 
still animosity against Mr. Harcourt — ^if you ” 

“ Stop, my dear Fleta, I will answer all your questions at 
once.” I took HarcourFs hand, and placed it in hers. “ May 
God bless you both, and may you be happy !” 

Cecilia threw her arms round me and wept ; so did every 
body else, I believe. It was lucky for Harcourt that I was in 
love with Susannah Temple. As soon as Cecilia had recovered 
a little, I kissed her, and passed her over to her right owner, 
who led her to the sofa. Lady de Clare and I went out of the 
room on important business, and did not return for a quarter 
of an hour. When we returned, Cecilia went to her mother 
and embraced her, while Harcourt silently squeezed my hand. 
We then all sat down, and I gave them an account of all 
that had passed during my second excursion — how I had nearly 
been hanged — ^liow I had gone mad — ^how 1 had turned Quaker 
and apothecary — which they all agreed, with what had hap- 
pened to me before, mode up a very eventful history. 

“ And, Japhet, if it be a fair question about cne so fair, was 
that Miss Temp'e who was at cliurch with you yesterday V’ 

“It was.” 

“ Then, Cecilia, if ever she appears in the same circle, except 
in my eyes, your beauty will stand in some danger of being 
eclipsed.” 


416 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


“ How can you say except in your eyes, Mr. Harcourl,'^ 
replied Cecilia, “ the very observation proves that it is eclipsed 
in your eyes, what ever it may be in those of others. Now, as 
a punishment, I have a great mind to order you away again, 
until you bring her face to face, that I may judge myself.’^ 

“ If I am again banished,” replied Harcourt, “ I shall have a 
second time to appeal to De Benyon to be able to come back 
again. He can produce her, I have no doubt.” 

“ And perhaps may, some of these days, Cecilia.” 

“ Oh ! do, Japhet. I will love her so.” 

“You must wait a little first. I am not quite so far 
advanced as you and Harcourt. I have not received the con- 
sent of all parties, as you have to-day. But I must now leave 
you. Harcourt, I presume you will dine here. I must dine 
with my ‘ Governor.^ ” 

On my return, I found that the table was laid for three, and 
that the general had asked !Mr. Masterton, from which I 
augured well. Masterton could not speak to me when he 
arrived, but he gave me a wink and a smile, and I was satisfied. 
“Japhet,” said my father, “you have no engagement to-mor- 
row, I hope, because I shall call at Mr. Masterton’s on business, 
and wish you to accompany me.” 

I replied, that “ I should be most happy,” and the conversa- 
tion became general. 

I accompanied my father next day to Lincoln’s Inn ; and 
when we went up, we found Mr. Masterton at the table with 
Mr. Cophagus, and Susannah sitting apart near the window. 
“ The plot thickens,” thought I. The fact was, as I was after- 
wards told by Mr. Masterton, he liad prevailed upon Cophagus 
to pretend business, and to bring Susannah with him, and 
appointed them a quarter of an hour before our time. This he 
had arranged, that the general might see Miss Temple, as if by 
accident ; and also allow me, who, my father supposed, was 
not aware of Miss Temple being in town, to meet with her. 
What a deal of humbug there is in this world ! Nothing but 
plot and counterplot ! I shook hands with Cophagus, who, I 


JAPHET, IN SEAPvCH OF A FATHER. 41’! 

pcrceirccl, had, notvrithstanding his wife’s veto, put on his blue 
cottou-net pantaloons and Hessian boots, and he appeared tc 
be so tight in both, that he could hardly move. As far as I 
could judge, his legs had not improved since I had last seen 
them in this his favourite dress. 

“ Mr. De Benyon, I believe that you have met Miss Temple 
before,” said Mr. Masterton, winking at me. “ In Berkshire 
was it not ? Miss Temple, allow me to introduce General 
De Benyon.” 

I went up to Susannah, who coloured and trembled at the 
sight of my father, as I expressed my hope that she had been 
well since we last met. She perceived that there was some 
planned scheme, and was so puzzled that she said nothing. 
My father then spoke to her, and after a short time took a 
chair, and seated himself close to her. I never knew her make 
herself so agreeable. He asked her where she was staying, and 
when he heard that it was with Mr. Cophagus, he said that he 
should have the pleasure of calling upon Mr. Cophagus, and 
thank him for his kind information relative to me. Shortly af- 
terward Cophagus took his leave, and Susannah rose to accom- 
pany him, when my father, hearing that they had walked, 
insisted upon putting Miss Temple down in his carriage. So 
that Mr. Cophagus had to walk home one’w’ay, and I the other. 


CHAPTER LXXIX. 

POOR COPHAGUS FINDS AN END TO HIS ADVENTURES BY THE MEANS 
OF A MAD BULL ; I, OF MINE, BY MATRIMONY FATHER IS PRET- 

TILY BEHAVED, AND MY QUAKER WIFE THE MOST FASHIONABLY 
DRESSED LADY IN TOWN — VERILY I HUM ! 

Alas ! little did Mr. Cophagus know how fatal to him would 
be the light cotton-nets when he put them on that day. He 
liad proceeded, as it appears, about two-thirds of his way home 
(he lived in Wclbeck Street), when he perceived a rush from 

18 -^ 


418 JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 

up a street leading into Oxford Street. He looked to aster 
tain the cause, when to his horror he perceived — what to him 
was the greatest of all horrors — a mad bull. If anything 
could make Mr. Cophagus run, it was a sight like that, and he 
did run ; but he could not run fast in his cotton-nets and tight 
Hessians, which crippled him altogether. As if out of pure 
spite, the bull singled him out from at least one hundred, who 
exerted their agility, and again w'as poor Mr. Cophagus tossed 
far behind the animal, fortunately breaking his fall by tumbling 
on a large dog who was in full chase. The dog, who was 
unable to crawl from beneath the unfortunate Cophagus, was 
still in a condition to bite, which he did most, furiously ; and 
the butcher, who had an afiection for his dbg, when he per- 
ceived its condition, also vented his fury upon poor Cophagus, 
by saluting him with several blows on his head with his cudgel. 
What between the bull, the dog, and the butcher, poor Mr. 
Cophagus was taken into a shop in a very deplorable condition. 
After some time he recovered, and was able to name his resi- 
dence, when he was taken home. 

It was late in the evening when I received a note from 
Susannah, informing me of that unfortunate accident. My 
father had just finished a long story about filial duty, country 
girls, good wives, &c., and had wound up by saying, that he 
and Mr. Masterton both considered that Miss Temple would be 
a very eligible match, and that, as I had requested him to 
select, he had selected her accordingly. I had just proved how 
|ruly dutiful I was, by promising to do all I could to love her, 
and to fulfil his wishes, when the note was put in my hands. I 
read it, stated its contents to my father, and, with his permis- 
sion, immediately jumped into a hackney coach, and drove to 
Welbeck Street. 

On my arrival I found poor Mrs. Cophagus in a state of syn- 
cope, and Susannah attending her. I sent for the surgeon v/ho 
had been called in, and then went up to Mr. Cophagus. He was 
much better than I expected — calm, and quite sensible. His 
wounds had been dressed by the surgeon, but he did not appear 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 4111 

to be aware of the extent of the injury he had received. When 
the surgeon came I questioned him. He informed me that 
although much hurt, he did not consider that there was any 
danger to be apprehended ; there were no bones broken ; the 
only fear that he had was, that there might be some internal 
injury j but at present that could not be ascertained. I 
thanked him, and consoled Mrs. Cophagus with this informa- 
tion. I then returned to her husband, who shook his head, 
and muttered, as I put my ear down to hear him : “ Thought 
BO — come to London— full of mad bulls— tossed — die — and so 
on.” 

O no I” replied I, “ the surgeon says that there is no dan- 
ger. You will be up in a week — but now you must keep very 
quiet. I will send Mrs. Cophagus to you.” 

I went out ; and finding her composed, I desired her to go 
to her husband, who wished to see her, and I was left alone 
with Susannah. I told her all that had passed, and after two 
delightful hours had escaped, I returned home to the hotel. 
My father had waited up for some time, and finding that I did 
not return, had retired. When I met him the next morning, I 
mentioned what the surgeon had said ; but stated that, in my 
opinion, there was great cause for alarm in a man of Mr. 
Cophagus’s advanced age. My father agreed with me ; but 
could not help pointing out what a good opportunity this would 
afford for my paying my attentions to Miss Temple, as it was 
natural that I should be interested about so old a friend as Mr. 
Cophagus. My filial duty inclined me to reply, that I should 
certainly avail myself of such a favourable opportunity. 

My adventures are now drawing to a close. I must pass 
over three months, during which my father had taken and fur- 
nished a house in Grosvenor Square ; and I, whenever I could 
spare time, had, under the auspices of Lord Windermear, again 
been introduced into the world as Mr. He Benyon. I found 
that the new name was considered highly respectable ; my 
father’s hall tables were loaded with cards ; and I even received 
two dinner invitations from Lady Maelstrom, who told me how 


420 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 


her deaj nieces had wondered what had become of me, and that 
they were afraid that Louisa would have fallen into a decline. 
And during these three months Cecilia and Susannah had been 
introduced, and had become as inseparable as most young 
ladies are, who have a lover apiece, and no cause for jealousy. 
Mr. Cophagus had so far recovered as to be able to go down 
into the country, vowing, much to the chagrin of his' wife, that 
he never would put his foot in London again. He asked me 
whether I knew any place where there were no mad hulls, and I 
took some trouble to find out, but I could not ; for even if he 
■^ent to the North Pole, although there were no bulls, yet there 
were bull bisons and musk bulls, which were even more savage. 
Upon which he declared that this was not a world to live in ; 
and to prove that he was sincere in his opinion, poor fellow, 
about three months after his retirement into tlie country, he 
died from a general decay, arising from the shock produced on 
his system. But before these three months had passed, it had 
been finally arranged that Harcourt and 1 were to be united on 
the same day ; and having renewed my acquaintance with the 
good bishop, whom I had taxed with being my father, he united 
us both to our respective partners. My father made over to me 
the sum which he had mentioned. Mr. Masterton gave Susan 
nah ten thousand pounds, and her own fortune amounted to as 
much more, with the reversion of Mr. Cophagus’s property at 
the decease of his widow. Timothy came up to the wedding, 
and I formally put him in the possession of my shop and stock 
in trade, and he has now a flourishing business. Although he 
has not yet found his mother, he has found a very pretty wife, 
which he says does quite as well, if not better. 

Let it not be supposed that I forgot the good services of 
Kathleen — who was soon after married to Corny. A small 
farm on Fleta’s estate was appropriated to them, at so low a 
rent, that in a few years they were able to purchase the pro- 
perty ; and Corny, from a leveller, as soon as he was comforta- 
ble, became one of the government’s firmest supporters. 

I am now living in the same house with my father, who is 


JAPHET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. 421 

very happy, and behaves pretty well. He is seldom in a passion 
more than twice a-week, which we consider as miraculous. Now 
that I am writing this, he has his two grandchildren on his 
knees. Mrs. Cophagus has married a captain in the Life 
Guards, and as far as fashion and dress are concerned, may be 
said to be “going the whole hog.” And now, as I have no 
doubt that my readers wall be curious to know whether my 
lovely wife adheres to her primitive style of dress, I shall only 
repeat a conversation of yesterday night, as she came down 
arrayed for a splendid ball given by Mrs. Harcourt de Clare. 

“ Tell me now, De Benyon,” said she, “ is not this a pretty 
dress?” - 

“Yes, my dear,” replied I, looking at her charming face and 
figure with all the admiration usual in the honey-moon, “ it is 
ii. deed ; but do you not think, my dear Susan,” said I, putting 
the tip of my white glove upon her snowy shoulder, “ that it is 
cut down a little too low ?” 

“ Too low, De Benyon I why it’s not half so low as Mrs. 
Harcourt De Clare or Lady C wear their dresses.” 

“ Well, my dear, 1 did not assert that it was. I only asked.” 

“Well, then, if you only asked for information, De Benyon, 
I will tell you that it is not too low, and I think you will 
acknowledge that on this point my opinion ought to be deci- 
sive ; for, if I have no other merit, 1 have at least the merit of 
being the best-dressed woman in London.” 

“ Ycrily thou pcrsuadcst me, Susannah,” replied I. 

“ Now, Do Benyon, hold your tongue.” 

Like a well-disciplined husband, I bowed, and said no more. 
And now, having no more to say, I shall also make my bow to 
my readers, and bid them farewell. 


THS END. 






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